Observations on the Elite, the Unusual, and the Inhuman
by Waywatcher
Summary: Claude finds himself surrounded by colorful characters of all sorts... all sorts of species and interesting abilities that is! He's always been a fan of learning as much as possible, so naturally he takes it upon himself to figure out what everyone is and what they can do, while also maybe getting caught up fighting against a military conquest disguised as a revolution.
1. The Blade Breaker and the Ashen Demon

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**I'm a big fan of quirks, powers, whatever you want to call them. Also different species like elves or whatnot. So, naturally, when this idea struck me, I had to try and make a story out of it.**

**This is a bit rough. I'm bad at introductions. I don't know if this is chapter 1 or just a proof-of-concept one-shot, but I hope this turns out well.**

* * *

"Running away? That's quite like you Claude." Edelgard huffs.

"Says the one following me." He shoots back. He glances over his shoulder, both at their pursuers and their third member. "Keeping up there Blue?"

"Easily." Dimitri nods. "Pray tell _why_ we are running though."

"We need help! Three against a dozen? I know you two are sorta strong, but c'mon, those aren't good odds!"

"That is your concern? I could deal with all of these brigands in a moment if I needed too." Dimitri scoffs.

"Overconfidence ill suits you Dimitri." Edelgard scolds. "While I do not doubt your abilities, we both know that such an act would cause serious injury."

Dimitri huffs, but doesn't deny it. Claude rolls his eyes. He thinks that's ironic coming from the Mrs. Overconfidence herself. The girl who almost ran headlong into these brutes before Claude called her back.

"There's a village up ahead we can go to." Claude explains quickly. "We heard there was a mercenary company that tends to hang around it. Hopefully they'll either take pity on us, or our royal status and the promise of payment can get us some help."

"This is beneath me…" Edelgard mutters.

"You want to go _die_, be my guest princess."

Claude glances back again. His companions can't see as well in the dark as he can, perks of being half dark elf, not that it helps him horribly much at the moment. He can see how fucked they are if they turn around, but that's about it. He wishes he had more help. Just one or two more people! Edelgard's creepy retainer, Dimitri's cool, hunky one, or Hilda. Goddess above, _Hilda_ would perfect. Why did they leave without any protection anyhow? Who's stupid idea was that?

They rush into the town and Claude immediately starts hollering. As it turns out, thankfully, there is indeed a mercenary company here… Jeralt's mercenaries. As in _Jeralt the Blade Breaker_.

Suddenly their situation is looking _much_ more positive in Claude's estimation. Jeralt's mercenaries are all highly competent. Not only that, he's supposedly accompanied by a man known as the Ashen Demon, and you know someone with that title has got to be good.

Besides, there's a good chance the Ashen Demon is _literally_ a demon considering Jeralt is famously a demonkin (most people prefer the colloquial term: Tiefling) and the Ashen Demon is supposedly Jeralt's son.

Some lady who looks suspiciously like a ninja fetches one of the men in question. Jeralt looks just like Claude heard. Tall, rugged, muscular, blonde hair, the telltale red eyes and slightly pinkish skin. "What do you kids want? What are you doing here so late?"

"Our apologies sir." Edelgard says politely with a slight bow. It's a drastic change from her personality just a minute ago, and Claude can't help but roll his eyes a bit. How two-faced of her. "But we are being pursued by brigands and we must beg your aid."

"While we do not have any on us at this instant, we _are_ willing to pay." Dimitri adds.

"Money? Bah, forget about it." Jeralt grumbles as his horse is lead up to him. "I'm not going to _force_ someone to pay for a rescue. I'm no noble."

Something akin to offense flickers across Dimitri's face for a second at that comment, but it's gone quickly. Edelgard, on the other hand, actually seems to approve.

"_Politics even at a time like this huh? Prince and Princess indeed…_" Claude thinks.

"Everyone, fan out along the village border! No one gets through! Kid!"

"Yes?" A monotone voice responds. Claude twists around so fast he almost gets whiplash. When did this guy sneak up behind him? He must be losing his touch! This man is of average height with dark blueish-green hair, a surprisingly delicate face, and slim build, and sharp red eyes.

"_Red eyes._" Claude blinks, and glances at the man's hip. "_Sword, daggers, tiefling… yep, fits the description. Is this the Ashen Demon? He looks a lot more normal than I expected… says the dark elf about the tiefling, surrounded by humans._"

Okay, not _normal_, but less obviously dangerous than Claude thought at least.

"Protect these brats, make sure they don't get themselves killed." Jeralt orders.

"With all due respect-!" Edelgard interrupts before the Demon can speak. "We are quite capable, and were simply outnumbered. We would happily contribute to our own defence."

The Blade Breaker raises an eyebrow and looks to Dimitri and Claude. Dimitri nods firmly and Claude reluctantly does the same. Really he'd prefer not to take a chance and just let the legendary mercenary take these guys out, but if these two noble dolts insist then fine, he'll fight.

"Fine then. Kid, lead these brats and don't let them run headlong into a ditch or something." Jeralt kicks his horse into action, and the noble animal runs off down the road.

"Weapons out." The Demon says flatly, drawing his sword. His eyes give them a critical once-over, and he quickly settles on Claude. "You, I don't know what you are, what do you do?"

"Uhh… I'm an archer-"

"You have pointed ears." The Demon interrupts.

Oh. He doesn't know what a dark elf is. That's… weird. Dark elves aren't common in Fodlan, but most people at least know what they are. Almyra's primary population is dark elves, and being Fodlan's primary outside threat most people at least know about them.

"I'm a dark elf. Well, half dark elf half human." Claude coughs. Usually he doesn't say this outright. He prefers _not_ to draw attention to his Almyran attributes. "Sharp eyes, night vision, good ears, and a bit of minor magic. If you need a palm-sized ball of darkness, I can do that, but I'm just an archer beyond that."

"Noted." The Demon turns his back to them, gazing out at the forest in front of them. He points to a particular spot. "You said you had dark vision. Can you see them?"

He says it in a way that makes it clear he can see the bandits. Claude didn't realize tieflings had dark vision too. Interesting. Focusing on the indicated area though, he does see a bit of movement. "I think so."

"Good. Make sure we don't get flanked." The Demon orders. "Red, my left. Blue, the right. Stay alive, stay close."

"And _I_ don't have to stay alive?" Claude gasps, feigning offense.

"Yes, you do." The Demon says, completely missing the sarcasm. "Don't be stupid, stay alive, climb something."

"_Climb something?_" Claude blinks. "_Huh, not bad advice._"

He doesn't do so immediately, instead keeping a dozen paces behind the others and watching for any unexpected extras. He barks out a warning when he sees the brigands break off into two groups, and the Demon nods in acknowledgement. He has them take up a defensive position just behind a fence, making it at least more difficult for Bandits to flank them because they'll need to climb the fence. Claude finds a nearby tree to clamber up and settles in. For once, he curses his bright outfit. He'd be much harder to notice if he was in all black, or maybe dark brown and greens.

If this hadn't technically been a 'school outing', he _could_ have worn something else, but school outings have a dress code. Bah.

Seeing their group has stopped, the two bandit groups break into a run towards them. The Demon actually just opens the fence gate so the bandits don't break it and can come though in a narrow group.

"Stay close to the gate, cut them down as they get through, we don't want to get overwhelmed." The Demon orders. "Yellow, shoot at your discretion."

"We have names you know!" Claude calls back.

"Good for you."

Claude chooses to focus on the group _not_ heading directly for them, trusting the Demon to deal with that. He takes shots at the group trying to take a flanking route, making it difficult for them to get over the fence without him shooting them in the neck. Not being the bravest bunch, it doesn't take long before they just give up and back away and Claude can turn his attention to the other group.

Despite being outnumbered two to one, the Demon and his schoolmates are doing just fine. Claude takes a few careful shots, but everyone being in melee makes that difficult. So instead Claude pulls out a different trick. He points one finger at the lead brigand's eyes and pushes magic out.

A small globe of darkness, about the size of a cantaloupe, appears over the man's eyes. Claude doesn't keep it there for very long (it stays fixed in place so it doesn't move along with the man's head), but he doesn't need to. The momentary distraction is enough for Dimitri to stab the brigand in the side and send the man staggering desperately away from them.

The fight is trivial after that, and Claude is almost disappointed. He's been hoping to see whatever abilities Dimitri and Edelgard have. They're human, but they obviously have _some_ superpower. All the nobility in the Kingdom, the Empire, and even the Alliance tend to be either not human or have a superpower, but it seems this fight won't be enough to coax them out.

Shame.

The Ashen Demon actually fights very little, and instead spends most of his time simply batting away his foes while letting Edelgard and Dimitri kill them and giving quick orders. It's not for lack of skill, so maybe the Demon is assessing them? Maybe letting them show their skills? He's quite the commander though.

The Demon does finish the last enemy himself though. A single clean strike to the bandit's throat is all he needs. He nods and starts scanning for more foes.

Claude doesn't even see it coming, but apparently the Demon does. He abruptly steps in front of Edelgard and flicks his sword across his body, somewhat deflecting the throwing axe that came flying out from behind a tree. Claude can see the wounded form of the bandit leader there, who snarls and vanishes into the forest.

Claude says the Demon "somewhat" deflected the throwing axe, as in it didn't hit the man in the chest. Instead it's embedded in his shoulder. The Demon doesn't seem all that bothered. He stares at it for a moment, drinks a vulnerary, and promptly yanks it out. He doesn't whimper, growl, grunt, or even grit his teeth. He doesn't even flinch. Instead, he studies the axe, holding it with his uninjured arm. Claude has no idea what the man is looking for, but he drops the axe after a few moments and turns to them. His wound is already starting to piece itself together thanks to the magic of the vulnerary.

Dimitri and Edelgard are both varying degrees of impressed and wary. Claude is too. People who don't react to injuries _at all_ tend to be either too drugged up to notice, or sorta crazy.

"Well done." He says curtly, eyeing the small scratches on Edelgard and Dimitri. "Drink a vulnerary if you need it. Our job isn't done. We must stay on alert in case more brigands come this way."

No other bandits actually end up coming. About ten minutes later Jeralt rides over to alert them that they've killed or chased off every bandit they can find, and that they can come back to the village now.

The Demon walks along ahead of them to speak with his father, and the three heirs quickly fall into a conversation of their own.

"He's just as emotionless as the rumors say." Dimitri murmurs.

"And a competent commander it seems." Edelgard adds. "That is surprising. I was expecting a peerless warrior, not a tactician."

"He was analyzing you two." Claude offers. "He let you two do the bulk of the fighting intentionally."

"Really?" Edelgard blinks. "I did not realize. How interesting."

"He might be a fine addition to the Kingdom's ranks." Dimitri muses. "Competent commanders are difficult to come by."

"Oh? Is that so?" Edelgard phrases it as a question, but her tone suggests an accusation. "Perhaps that is because the Kingdom pulls only from aristocracy for it's commanders."

"You speak as if the Empire is much better, considering the abhorrent cost required for command schooling." Dimitri retorts. "And it is not on _my_ wishes we pull from aristocracy. That is an old tradition, and a difficult one to change. The aristocrats in question generally aren't agreeable to having a privilege of theirs stripped away."

Edelgard's mouth twitches into something resembling a sneer for a moment, but it's gone quickly.

Claude, usually chatty, instead listens carefully to that conversation. He's not foolish, Edelgard has always struck him as quite the ambitious person and he knows she has _some_ sort of agenda. Any clue he can discern is another piece to that puzzle. She thinks pulling commanders from only aristocracy is foolish? That's something to note.

They get back at the village just in time to see Alois and the Knights of Seiros arrive. They're just in time to totally miss everything.

"Fear not everyone, the Knights of Seiros have arrived!" Alois bellows as he charges into the village center. He glances around, seeing the confused looks and raised eyebrows he's receiving, and lowers his axe. Then he notices all the mercenaries gathered around and clears his throat. "Ah, I suppose everything has been dealt with already, has it?"

"It has. You're getting slow Alois. I trained you better than that. Getting old, are we?" Jeralt calls out.

"Captain Jeralt!" The warrior calls out. "Why, it's been years! It's so good to see you! We have to get a drink!"

"Maybe some other time. We're leaving tomorrow and I can't afford to be hungover."

The Demon blinks hard upon hearing that and their eyes flick to their father for a moment, which gives Claude the feeling that Jeralt just lied. Alois seems to know that too, though for an entirely different reason.

"Since when has a hangover ever stopped you from getting a drink?" The man laughs. "I won't believe you've changed _that_ much Captain!"

Jeralt sighs, then chuckles. "I suppose that's true. Fine then, come on!" He turns to the Demon. "By, make sure the brats get somewhere to sleep, yeah?"

"Okay." The Demon, nods.

"Wait!" Alois says, glancing between Jeralt and the Demon. "Who's this? There's something… ah, you're a tiefling too! Jeralt take you in kid?"

"He's my father." The Demon replies flatly.

"Father? Father!" Alois blinks, and a massive grin crosses his face. "Ha! That explains why you left, eh Jeralt? What's your name kid?"

"Byleth."

"_Byleth._" Claude notes. "_He's named after the demon Beleth? That's not a suspicious name at all. Great name you gave your kid there Jeralt._"

"Byleth! A wonderful name!" Alois says and throws an arm around Byleth's shoulder. "You _have_ to tell me tales of your father! The things he won't want to say."

"Absolutely not." Jeralt growls. "Kid, don't tell him _anything_."

The Demon blinks, and glances to Alois. "I have a few stories."

"Traitor…" Jeralt grumbles.

Claude desperately wishes he could hear these stories now. Maybe he'll have to sneak out of his room to hear them.

###

Claude doesn't know when or how it happened, but Alois managed to convince Jeralt to come to Garreg Mach. He, Dimitri, and Edelgard talk at the Demon the entire way there. He pays attention to them but says very little. He occasionally nods or shakes his head, but mostly stares at them with a lack of visible emotion.

It's not long before Dimitri and Edelgard try to recruit the man, and Claude can only shake his head. Rather than let him ply his trade everywhere, they want him to be _theirs_ and strip the benefit from other factions. Claude, personally, appreciates how Jeralt's mercenaries will work for any side so long as they pay decently enough and aren't total scumbags. There have been a number of bandit groups or monsters they've taken out in Alliance territory that the regional lords were too busy squabbling to deal with. That doesn't mean he wouldn't want the Kingdom or the Empire to get the same benefits.

Still, he supposes, it's natural to want to employ someone useful. It's not like he wasn't considering something similar. More of a sponsorship rather than outright employment, but still.

Despite this, he plays his part as heir to the Alliance and tries to recruit the man. He doesn't particularly care to shackle Byleth to him, but Claude feels he'll be far more reasonable than the other two so he might as well try and keep the Demon _out_ of Edelgard and Dimitri's political machinations.

It's hard to tell how the Demon is reacting, who he's leaning towards, or if he even cares. His blank stare gives away very little.

When they arrive at Garreg Mach Monastery, they are forced to part ways as Jeralt and Byleth are shown to the cathedral to meet with Lady Rhea.

It's only later he hears whispers from a priest that the Demon has been hired as a teacher. A _teacher_. Considering his general demeanor, that's going to make for an interesting year…

* * *

**I never realized just how useful Claude is for a story. He's an amazing protagonist actually. I have a new appreciation for him.**

**It's hard to get all of the ideas I have into one chapter, much less an introduction. This is barely scratching the surface. There's so much more than half dark elf Claude and tiefling Jeralt and Byleth I have in my mind, and more nuance to be explored with those two things anyhow.**

**Ahh, whatever. If people want to see more of this, great, if not, oh well (I mean, I'll probably make semi-connected one-shots about some of the ideas anyhow, but not a full story).**


	2. Curiosity and Hilda

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**So, small problem with having Claude be the POV character… I'm mostly restricted to the Golden Deer, which is a shame, because I have ideas for characters that are **_**not**_ **just the Golden Deer. I have to decide what I'm going to do with that, because I am **_**not**_ **leaving out the other classes.**

* * *

"I can see you've been productive while I'm gone." Claude smirks.

"I can tell you've gotten less sarcastic while you were gone." Hilda replies, not looking up from her meal. When Claude sits down across from her, she pulls a bottle out of her pocket and slides it across the table. "The merchants came by while you were away. You owe me a hundred gold."

Claude picks up the bottle and inspects the plant within. Hemlock. He's been looking for this. It's common up north, but the Alliance doesn't stretch that far so it's been hard to get his hands on it. If Hilda hadn't picked this up for him Claude might have had to wait quite a while for another chance. "Thanks Hilda, you're the best."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I ran into the Ashen Demon and the Blade Breaker."

_That_ gets her to look up. She visibly raises an eyebrow at him and props her chin on a hand. "Really now?"

"Yep. The Demon looked a lot more normal than I expected. He was totally emotionless, but a great tactician."

"A tactician? Isn't he known for his skill in fighting?"

"Yeah. We didn't get to see a lot of that." Claude nods. "A shame."

"Hmm…" Hilda hums in understanding. "What about the other two?"

"Nothing." Claude admits reluctantly. "Even with a bandit ambush, they didn't show anything."

"So much for that plan then." The girl chuckles. Her pink eyes return to her meal, and her faintly purple fingers pick up her fork again.

"You take amusement in my failure? You wound me Hilda!" Claude gasps dramatically.

"Oh please, seeing someone as cocky as you fail at something is the _height_ of entertainment. It's the same reason you think Lorenz is funny."

"Funny in a sad, pathetic sort of way." Claude reminds her. "So are you calling me pathetic?"

"You said it, I didn't." A smile creeps across her face. "So, Raphael was talking about how a huge group of people came in just a few hours ago, do you know anything about it?"

Claude nods. "That's the Breaker's mercenary company. Alois insisted he come to the monastery. Apparently the Breaker used to be the captain of the Knight of Seiros."

"Hmm…" Hilda hums. "And the Ashen Demon?"

"He's here too. His name is Byleth actually." He leans in with a conspiratorial whisper. "I heard from a priest that he's being made a _teacher_."

A frown crosses Hilda's face. "I don't suppose he has any credentials?"

"Not that I know of."

"Well that's suspicious."

"I know, right?" This is why Claude likes Hilda. She picks up on these things quickly. "And apparently it's Rhea herself who _insisted_ he be a teacher."

The girl purses her lips. "Well _that's_ an interesting tidbit."

"But I have no idea what it could mean. Nothing concrete anyways." Claude sighs.

That's fine though. Claude considers himself somewhat of an expert in pulling apart mysteries. This will be no different.

###

Claude knows how to take advantage of distractions. He's done it all his life. The difference is that usually it's _him_ that makes the distractions in the first place. Rhea and Seteth being in a meeting with the Demon and Jeralt for a prolonged period of time is something he can use though. That means neither Rhea nor Seteth are in the upper levels of the cathedral, where their rooms and a bunch of important documents are held. That looks like a fantastic opportunity to Claude.

He could have gotten here sooner if he hadn't detoured to talk with Hilda, but it was a good idea in his mind. If Hilda knows he's back, she'll cover for him if anyone is trying to find him.

"_If you're so organized, why can't I find what I'm looking for?_" Claude frowns. His fingers pull paper after paper out of the drawer. Single sheets, books, tomes, anything. "_This is all just… junk_."

Financial reports, memos, imports, storage counts… all of these could be useful, sure, but it's not like he can _take_ these, and he sure doesn't have time to copy them. He could read them, but he has more important things to look for.

Claude thought student files would be easy to find. It shouldn't be this difficult! There's no way Seteth _doesn't_ have them in his office, so where are they?

"_Nothing is ever simple._" Claude thinks with a shake of his head. "_Not in this one. Next._"

He's skimmed through about half of the files in the room, looking at a few from each drawer to try and find his target. It happens eventually, but it takes far longer than he hoped.

"1175, 1176, 1177…" Claude mutters. "1180. Okay, here we go."

He pulls out the files on himself, Edelgard, Hubert, and Dimitri. The four people Claude needs information on the most. He needs to see how much the church knows about him, and he needs info on the three others.

He looks at his own file first, and… it's surprisingly bare bones. His name, gender, species, and a quick synopsis of the basic facts of his life. Or, more accurately, what the church _thinks_ are the basic facts of his life.

"_Good, they don't know anything._" Claude nods, and slides that file back in its place. "_But…_"

Edelgard, Hubert, Dimitri. Nothing. The files are totally useless. They're just as bare bones as his.

"_Species unknown? Really? Not even a guess?_" Claude sighs as he reads Hubert's file. It's the most barren of the four by far. Hubert's file doesn't even span half a page. "_Useless. They're all useless. Figures._"

This was all just a waste of time. He should have known. They wouldn't keep sensitive information in an office like this. If the church does know something, it's not here. Maybe Seteth's room would have been a better target, or Rhea's.

Footsteps in the hallway. Claude quickly slips all the files back into their place, closes the drawer, and hides behind Seteth's desk. The footsteps are too quiet to be Seteth. He doesn't walk that lightly.

The footsteps stop in front of the door and Claude holds his breath. "_Did I leave the door open?_ _That would be stupid of me. I don't think I did._"

Whoever is outside the door paces in front of it for a moment, and Claude can hear a hand on the door handle. A long pause follows, and Claude wonders what this person is waiting for.

"_Maybe I should climb out the window…?_" Claude considers. He shakes his head. "_No, I'd be too noticeable._" Blue sky, pale walls, blue roof? Yellow clothes and dark skin is going to stand out against that like a sore thumb. "_If someone comes in, I guess I'll just have to accept punishment_."

By some miracle, the person _doesn't_ open the door and actually leaves. Claude doesn't question his good luck. He waits until the footsteps are suitably far away and slips out of the room.

If he'd looked back he might have seen Cyril peering around the other end of the hallway, watching him leave.

###

Looking natural is a skill. A skill most people don't have. Claude is not one of those people, he's quite good at looking inconspicuous.

The key to looking natural is _doing_ something. It's not natural to stand around doing nothing. Just having a book in your hand does _wonders_ for making people ignore you. No one realizes that Claude is actually waiting for someone.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

Okay, maybe Hilda realizes. "Why yes I am. How could you tell?"

"You haven't turned a page in the last five minutes."

Apparently he still hasn't perfected his facade. "Don't go exposing me to the less eagle-eyed. It wasn't you I was waiting for."

"Rude." Hilda huffs. "If you want to be less suspicious, you might consider sitting down. Leaning against a wall and reading? No one does that unless they're waiting for something."

"Ah." Well, that does make sense.

"So, who are you waiting for?"

"Well, I've heard the Demon was wandering around the grounds just a bit ago talking with some of the students. I'm hoping to watch him, or maybe sway him to the side of the Deer." Claude admits.

"Well you just missed him." Hilda smirks. "You're slow on the draw Claude, it's unlike you."

"Hey, I was busy!"

"Sure, sure." Hilda huffs. She flips her hair behind her shoulders. "So, since you were _busy_, I took it upon myself to talk with him. He wanted to know about all the students in our house and all that, so I entertained him for a bit."

"I don't believe my ears! Lazy Hilda putting in effort?" Claude chuckles. "Erm… what do you mean we'd be a good choice to teach? Isn't that predetermined?"

"Not this year. Apparently Rhea is letting the professors choose, and since he's new, Hanneman and Manuela are giving Byleth the first pick." Hilda says. "I figured you'd want him over the others, you seemed to think he was interesting, so I made sure to lay on the charm. You can thank me later."

"You're the best Hilda."

"That's the second time you've said that today. I think that covers my contributions to your plans for a few months." The girl smirks. "So you better not pester me for help anytime soon."

Claude snorts at that. He never _asked_ Hilda to help with anything. It's just like her to cover up her own efforts.

"And now you _snort_ at me? Don't make me tell Lorenz."

"Oh Goddess, anything but that." Claude chuckles. He closes his book and stands up straight. "Even if you've talked to him, I should go try myself. Which way did the Demon go?"

"To the main hall."

"Great." He shoves the book in his pocket and walks off. "Thanks again Hilda."

"Yeah yeah. You still owe me a hundred gold!"

"I'll give it to you tonight, yeesh!"

###

Claude finds the Demon talking with Annette and Mercedes. It also occurs to him that he should stop referring to Byleth as "the Demon". It's not like he can call him that to his face, and he doesn't want to risk a slip up. Calling him Byleth sounds too personal. If he's going to be a teacher, then how about… Teach.

Simple, casual, but impersonal. Perfect.

The half elf waits patiently as the man converses with the two. Claude eyes the two girls with absent curiosity. From what he's gathered, the large majority of the main classes in the Officer's Academy are comprised of non-humans, yet so many of the students look perfectly human. Not all of them have tell-tale signs like Claude's pointed ears. Even those that do have obvious signs don't exactly tell everyone what they are, with only a few exceptions.

Lorenz isn't exactly subtle about being an angel after all. Angel in the literal, platinum-skinned, golden-eyed sense; _not_ his personality.

Those that are truly human are usually easy to determine too. Fodlan's upper classes are comprised of either non-humans, or humans with superpowers of some sort. So when people like Leonie enroll in the academy, you can be fairly sure they're "just" human.

Just human… in Almyra, being human would be _special,_ and dark elves are the so-called "normal race".

So, when Claude looks at Annette and Mercedes, two girls hailing from nobility, he has to wonder what species they are, or what superpower they possess. Annette has no obvious markers, and Mercedes is monochrome peach colored, clothes and all, which could be a sign of a certain species… or she might just like wearing peach.

"_No sense in indulging idle speculation._" Claude sighs. He has other things on his plate. He has all the school year to poke into people's mysteries if he really wants to. Still, he's going to put that into his notebook. "_And I'm going to need a bigger notebook…_"

The Dem- _Teach_ eventually stops talking with the two girls and turns directly to Claude. He must have heard Claude walk up beforehand. "Yellow, what is it?"

"Rude Teach! I have a name you know."

"As do I." He replies flatly. "Most people tend to. Did you want something?"

"_Well aren't you sarcastic?_" Claude thinks. "Is it a crime for a student to want to chat with his future professor."

"Not that I'm aware."

Claude blinks slowly, waiting for the smirk or the punchline, but Byleth's expression remains flat. Then it hits Claude what's going on: "_He's not being sarcastic at all. He's taking this literally_."

As if he wasn't strange enough already.

"So… are you okay to chat then?" The boy asks cautiously.

"Sure."

"Hilda mentioned to me that the teachers are allowed to _choose_ their classes this year, so I figured, as house leader, I should be arguing why the Deer are _clearly_ the best choice."

"You are?"

"I mean…" Claude has never had to deal with someone this literal. Does Byleth actually not understand he's being sarcastic? Maybe he should explain, just in case Byleth really is that oblivious. "I'm sure all the houses are equally good, but as house leader I'm expected to make a case for mine."

"I see." Byleth nods. "These are the 'social expectations' Father mentioned…"

"_Just how isolated was this guy? Why in Fodlan's name is he being allowed to teach?_" Claude muses. The Demon might be much more of a mystery than he was expecting. He was expecting the man to be cold and logical, not socially oblivious to the point of not understanding sarcasm. There's a story here, and Claude wants to know it.

###

Gossip is useful. You can't take it all at face value of course, but there's a lot you can learn from keeping an ear to the rumor mill. Listening to chatter around the tables at lunchtime has already given Claude a few nuggets of info to put in his notebook to investigate later.

His other main sources of gossip are Hilda and Lorenz. Hilda actively bring interesting tidbits to his attention, while Lorenz just can't shut up so Claude overhears things by virtue of how loud the boy is.

Claude isn't just listening to gossip to learn people's secrets. It's also nice to know what's going on around the monastery, and not just to formulate strategies and plan his movements and investigations based on that information, he also likes gossip for the sake of hearing stories. It's _fun_.

Today Claude is listening in to the Blue Lion's table. It's rare for all of them to be gathered in one place, usually they're split into two or three different tables with Mercedes, Annette, and Ashe at one and everyone else at another (sometimes Dimitri and his retainer Dedue sit somewhere else, having a private conversation).

Ashe is the topic of conversation today. He's sitting between Mercedes and Annette with his shoulders hunched and hands clenched around his utensils. Judging by Mercedes rubbing his back, he must be worried about something. Everyone at the table seems to be listening to him, but unfortunately he's speaking in such a quiet voice Claude can't hear what's going on.

Thankfully for Claude, Sylvain, a deathly pale redhead known for being a womanizer, is far from quiet in his response. "I don't see what you're worried about, you scored a hot date! Actually, care to share your technique?"

"I wasn't _trying_ to score a date! I don't have a technique!" Ashe protests. "She was showing me how to get to class because I got lost! I-I don't know how it happened!"

"I don't see the problem. Accident or not, you got a date with a princess! I mean, sure, she's foreign royalty and you can barely talk to your own prince without a stutter, but no pressure. You _probably_ won't cause a diplomatic incident."

Ingrid promptly slaps Sylvain on the head and hisses "You're _not_ helping!"

Ashe buries his face in his hands. Even Mercedes, who is usually a peacemaker, frowns at Sylvain in disapproval. The redhead shrugs unrepentantly. "What? It's true."

Claude is simply fascinated by this. He only knows the basics about Ashe. He's some commoner who got taken in by a noble, so he's likely human without any powers. If he's hearing this right, Ashe _accidentally_ got a date with foreign royalty. Not nobility, _royalty_. That narrows it down to precisely two candidates: Edelgard and Petra. It seems unlikely that Edelgard would ask someone on a date in the first place, much less be so indirect about it that Ashe would consider it "accidental", so it's probably Petra.

Claude wishes he could have been there to see what happened. He'll have to get the full story some other time. Maybe Hilda knows about this.

"I don't see what you're worried about." Sylvain says, ignoring the glares he's getting from _everyone _at his table. "You got a date with a hot chick with legs for days. You might even get luck-"

"Shut _up_." Ingrid smacks him again. Mercedes's frown turns into a full-on glare. Claude shakes his head as he watches. He feels like he understands Sylvain already. An obvious womanizer. He's probably the last person Ashe should be listening to at the moment.

Claude is curious now. Ashe says he got a date "by accident". What exactly does that mean? Is it explicitly a date, or is Sylvain just calling it a date when it's just a casual meet up of some sort?

Hmm… maybe he should go talk to one of the Eagles. They might know something.

###

"Hilda, I need a favor."

"I thought I told you I was done doing favors for a few months." The girl huffs.

"You know you can't resist helping this handsome face." Claude grins. "Besides, I think this might interest you."

He takes a moment to explain the gossip he hears about Ashe, and Hilda's face lights up with interest. "Really? That's interesting. I'm guessing you want me to go talk with Petra?"

"Or just see if one of the Eagles know her side of the story." Claude nods.

"Okay, fine, but only because I'm interested." She huffs. "Why do you want to know anyways? Are you planning to break into one of their rooms? Are you getting political dirt on Petra?"

"Nope. I'm just curious." Claude admits.

Hilda snorts and shakes her head. "You're worse than me sometimes, and this is the _last_ favor, hear me?"

"You say that, but you love me too much to stop." He teases.

###

Hilda knows exactly who to go to for gossip surrounding the Eagles, but it's not who people might expect. Most people peg Dorothea as a gossip girl, and they're actually _wrong_. While Dorothea is more than happy to talk about gossip if it comes up, she doesn't pay particular attention to it.

No, if you want to know about the Eagles, you go to Caspar and Linhardt. Mostly Caspar.

"Caspar!" Hilda calls. She puts on her most winning smile. "Heeeeey! Did you heeeear?"

"Heya Hilda. Hear about what?" The boy grunts. He's in the middle of training right now, and is beating on a dummy with a pair of training gauntlets.

"About Petra!"

"You mean about the thing with Ashe?"

"Yes! I only know a bit, I was hoping you could explain. There are some rumors about it; Sylvain's fault I think." That's a lie… for now. Hilda didn't hear anything except from Claude, but she expects anything Sylvain hears to be public knowledge soon enough.

"Right, so, I heard Petra talkin' about this with Dorothea, and asked about it, so Petra explained." Caspar grunts. "Petra was just finishing early morning training, right? She walks out, and sees, and I quote: "a well looking boy with grey hair"."

"Well looking?" Hilda smirks. "That sounds like Petra alright."

"So, since he looked a bit worried, she went up and asked what was up, right? Ashe was lost, so Petra offered to help. They start talking as she shows him the way, and they get into talking about how Petra wants to become familiar with Fodlan's culture and whatnot, so Ashe says he knows a few restaurants in the area he could suggest if she wants to try some of Fodlan's food, and not only that he offers to _make_ her some recipes he knows."

"_So not only did Ashe unintentionally ask her out, he offered to cook for her too?_" Hilda thinks with a shake of her head. "What did Petra think?"

"She was really excited." Caspar says. He actually has a grin on his face. "She kept mentioning how she couldn't wait, and how she wished the weekend would come sooner so she could "go on that date with the cute boy of grey hair"."

"Go on "that date"? Wait, did she know what a date is?"

"Nope. At least, not in Fodlan terms." Caspar nods. "She thought a date just meant an event on a certain day, not a romantic thing. Though when Dorothea explained Petra seemed even _more_ enthusiastic, so it's all good."

"_Ashe is sooo lucky. Actually, I guess Petra is too. I wouldn't mind someone cooking for me_." Hilda huffs. "_Hmm… if Ashe doesn't consider cooking for someone a big deal, maybe I can talk him into making me something?_"

Claude would probably roll his eyes at her for that and call her lazy. Others would call her manipulative. Maybe that's true, but why should she cook if she can get someone else to do it for her?

"Thanks Caspar. I think I get it now." Hilda says. "_Claude should find this interesting, if not particularly noteworthy_."

"No problem." He grunts without looking away from his practice.

###

"Well that's painfully cute." Claude chuckles.

"I know, right?" Hilda says. She then crosses her arms. "Is your urge to pick apart mysteries satisfied now?"

"That itch is _never_ scratched." Claude chuckles. "Here's your gold by the way."

"About time."

"Say, Hilda…"

"Before you ask, _no_, I am not doing you another favor."

Claude holds his hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to ask if you knew when the decision had to be made for the teachers."

"Oh, that's in two days." Hilda says. "We'll find on the first day of class."

"You think they'd tell us beforehand." Claude muses. "Ah well. Thanks Hilda, you're the best."

"That's three times today." The girl huffs. "I should start charging for how great I am at this rate."

"How about I treat you to a cake tomorrow? I saw a place that makes some nice ones on the way in."

"Deal." She says instantly.

* * *

**Slow burn here with giving out species/powers. A few of them I'll mention right off the bat because the character wouldn't or can't hide it (like Lorenz), but for others it's going to be Claude slowly piecing together clues, wheedling it out of someone, or the reveal only coming when they actually use a superpower or ability. If I give away everything right at the start, this would be a really short story.**

**So, those of you familiar with one of my other stories, **_**The Robin Variable**_**, will be familiar with how I do angels already. Those of you who aren't, like my AO3 audience, you'll come in unspoiled. By no means do you have to have read **_**The Robin Variable**_**, I'll be treating these quirks as if you've never seen them before. Some of them are entirely new anyhow, like Hilda's, so **_**none**_ **of you have any prior knowledge to go off.**

**Also, I should mention that this story isn't **_**just**_ **focused around quirks. There is a plot of sorts, and character interactions aren't entirely predicated around species or superpower. That's actually the reason I decided to put in the Ashe/Petra subplot, to show you (somewhat) what to expect of this story… as well as Claude's insatiable need to know the truth of things.**


	3. Hints and Killing Them All

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**So many choices… hmm… okay… gotta do something more quirk-focused this chapter though. Last chapter established Hilda as a side character and fleshing out Claude's general attitude, but y'all are (presumably) here for the quirks.**

**So let's see…**

* * *

Claude is a half elf. Well, half dark elf. To a human he looks like a dark elf, to a dark elf he looks like a human. Still, the physical markers of a half-elf are fairly distinct in terms of how different he is from a human. Pointed ears, chocolate skin (there is _some _variation in half-elf skin color, and less so for a proper dark elf, but _certainly_ less than humans), naturally slim (partially on account of elves only having 11 pairs of ribs rather than humans' 12), generally being a few inches taller than expected for a human, and a more elongated eye socket. It's not as drastic as some others species, like a harpy, but it's not hard to see if you really look.

Some species look exactly human though. Humans seem to be a baseline for some reason. Claude has some theories about it, mostly involving evolution and humans being so common that other species adapted to resemble them so they wouldn't get murdered for looking too different. Heck, humans were so common that some predators evolved that specialized in preying on them (succubi, alraunes, that sort of thing). Not that humans are strong or anything, no, they seem to be the evolutionary rats of all the sentient species. Weak, frail, but they breed (relatively) quickly. Technology was once said to be their unique strength, but Claude is fairly sure they got technologically advanced first because they _had_ to. If everything else can spit fire or is five times as strong as you, inventing the bow would be damn useful!

Anyhow, Claude is mulling this over because he's remembering other ways to identify someone's species. Psychological markers can work, but you _really_ have to know what you're looking for or the behaviour has to be very pronounced to notice it that way. Some species have dead giveaways. For example undead don't feel a need to eat or drink (and most physically _can't _eat or drink, with a few exceptions) and dryads hate underground spaces because there's no sunlight. Heck, they don't even like being indoors most of the time.

Hence why Manuela conducts her lessons outside. Technically she's a hamadryad (half dryad for the layman) but the same mostly applies to her.

Claude has taken pains to educate him with as many psychological tells from as many different species as he can, but despite that he's still primarily relying on physical markers to figure people out. Even then, he hasn't narrowed things down. Sure, Sylvain, Hubert, and Bernadetta are all pale, but that doesn't tell him much. There are _tons_ of species that are naturally pale. Heck, basically _all_ undead are (un?)naturally pale, and there are all sorts of nocturnal or subterranean species that are pale. So yay, they're pale. That doesn't tell him nearly enough.

His little notebook where he's marking down notes on everyone is annoyingly barren on even the _basic_ elements. He doesn't even have the species for half the people in the main classes! He only has the ones that are blatantly obvious or that no efforts are being made to hide (and Claude knows about Hilda, but she's a special case).

That won't do. He'll have to rectify that this weekend.

"This weekend we're going on a mission." The professor informs them, completely killing Claude's plan. The Ashen Demon stares at his class with a blank expression. Claude doesn't know if the professor can see him peeking at his notebook behind his class notes, so he subtly puts it down just in case. "To kill things."

"_Way to soften the blow Teach._" Claude snorts when Ignatz yelps and Marianne freezes. He can't help but be sarcastic as he watches. "_Don't want to __scare_ _them or anything._"

"To kill what, exactly?" Lysithea huffs. "Be clear Professor."

"To kill people. By stabbing them in the neck, the heart, or the face. You can also chop their heads off, or their arms, or their legs, or-"

"Okay!" Hilda interrupts loudly, noticing the growing discomfort of Marianne and Ignatz. "We get it Professor."

The man stops and nods. "Good. Just remember: don't die… and kill them all."

"Noted." Lorenz says dryly.

"Truly inspirational Professor." Claude can't help but add with the most obvious sarcasm he can manage. "Thanks for that."

"Thank you." Byleth says, completely missing his students' various states of discomfort and disapproval. "Now, let's go over the headsplitter technique once more…"

Ignatz is probably going to be sick by the end of the night. Claude later gets clarification that their mission is to fight bandits.

###

"This walk is killing me!" Hilda whines. She makes a big show of wiping her brow. "My delicate physique wasn't made for this! Claude, carry me!"

"Oh please, if anything you should be carrying _me_." Claude snorts. He pokes her bicep. "I know these are deceiving. Try someone else Hilda. Raphael maybe."

"But he's so _loud_." Hilda huffs. "I mean, he's nice, but loud. He always smells like beef too."

"Hey, he's half-ogre. He needs to eat a lot." Claude reminds her. He doesn't disagree with her though. Raphael _does_ always smell like beef. "Besides, he's already carrying Ignatz."

They're climbing over some rocky terrain, and being as small as he is thanks to being a halfling, Ignatz was having quite a bit of trouble getting around.

"This should be a breeze for you though. Aren't elves good at naturey stuff?" Hilda huffs.

"Hey, I'm half _dark_ elf, not wood elf, and them being good with nature is a stereotype and you know it. They just use a lot of nature magic, they don't have a natural affinity or anything." Claude chuckles. "Though I suppose compared to someone lazy like you, I _am_ good at 'naturey stuff' as you put it."

"So you'll carry me then, right?"

"Only in your dreams."

They journey doesn't get much easier from there. The ground gets a bit less rocky, but in return is starting to be filled with shrubs and trees with exposed, gnarled roots. Byleth is at the front and hacking away branches with his sword when appropriate, but it's still a pain to get through the uneven terrain. Not only that but this part of the forest has several rivers, some of which have carved quite deep gullies into the land which they need to be wary of.

"Why couldn't we have just gone around this forest?" Lorenz grumbles from ahead of them. "Surely there was a better option than this? We could have used our horses to carry out supplies as well."

He's been griping about their large backpacks the entire day. Just under half of the class is arguably weaker than him, yet Marianne, Lysithea, and Ignatz have not said one word about their burden.

"The bandits are in the Red Canyon. We cannot approach from an obvious direction or else they will see us and either flee or ambush us." Byleth responds flatly, still not understanding that Lorenz's complaining is rhetorical. "We need to not be noticed so we-"

"-can kill them all, we get it!" Claude calls up to the front. In a lower voice to Hilda he mutters. "I think he's obsessed."

"No, really?" She snorts.

"Really puts the 'Demon' in his title." Claude chuckles. He twirls around, walking backwards in front of Hilda and trying to keep his face totally neutral. "I'm Byleth, I murder things. Kill them all! I also teach people how to murder things, and only know how to take things literally. Kill them all!"

Hilda's hand comes flying at him, and for a moment he thinks she's going to punch him for mocking the professor. He reflexively flinches back, but it's actually a good thing Hilda can swing her hand faster than he can flee in this case.

Claude yelps when Hilda grabs his collar and effortlessly lifts him into the air with one hand. His hand flashes to his dagger on instinct. Just as quickly as he's picked up though, Hilda puts him down next to her.

"Uh." The boy blinks, trying to ignore the sudden pounding of his heart. He awkwardly re-sheaths his weapon. "What was-?"

"Maybe don't walk backwards near a gully." Hilda hums. It's only at then that Claude glances back and notices that, yes, he nearly just stumbled down a ten foot drop into a rocky stream because he was too busy making fun of the professor.

"Pff, I knew that was there." He lies. He's still trying to calm his heartbeat. "I was going to jump on to the log. Geeze, you worry too much Hilda."

"Uh-huh. Sure." She huffs, stepping onto the log bridge. The person in front of them, Marianne, is just reaching the other side. "If you slip on the log I'll just let you fall then."

"Exactly." Claude knows she's lying of course. She keeps an eye on him as they cross. Not that he really needs it, the only reason he almost fell into that gully was because he literally wasn't looking where he was going. He could blame that on Hilda for distracting him if he wanted.

He _could_ do that, but he'd be lying… and he totally owes her another cake now.

"That proved _you_ should be carrying _me_ instead." He jokes.

"And put in that much effort? No thanks."

###

He would have gone with Hilda, but nooo, they're _teenagers_, so apparently they can't be trusted with people of the opposite sex. What, does the academy really think everyone can't keep it in their pants for _four_ days? Maybe not Sylvain, but everyone else? It's just Claude's luck that he'd get stuck with the only person he knows who literally glows in the dark as his tentmate.

"Lorenz, could you not…?" He groans.

"I have told you already, I have had no success controlling it." The boy says with obvious annoyance. "You _know_ this."

"_That doesn't make it any less annoying._" Claude thinks. How is he going to sleep like this? He doesn't have a sleeping mask. Even if he did, he probably wouldn't have brought it with him.

"If it is any reassurance, it is just as annoying for me. It is not like we angels sleep with lights on any more than others do." Lorenz sighs. "Truthfully, I have not gotten proper sleep for weeks because of this."

That makes Claude feel a bit more sympathetic. That's also something he'd like to put in his notebook… but he doesn't want to take it out with Lorenz around. The last thing he needs is the boy seeing his notes and lecturing him about 'invasions of privacy' or 'blackmail' or something.

He'll just have to remember that little tidbit for now until he can write it down.

"_If only I could make a big enough orb of darkness I could block out his light._" Claude sighs to himself. That's one of the drawbacks of only being _half_ dark elf. His innate magic is significantly weaker. A normal dark elf could make a darkness sphere about three meters in diameter, and that's _without_ practice. "_How am I going to get any sleep like this?_"

Short answer: he doesn't. Not as much as he wants anyhow.

###

"Stay behind me, stay close to each other, don't die." Byleth orders as they march into the canyon. "The knights of Sieros have handled most of the group, but we are expected to play a part. This is for your education. Stay safe, and kill them all."

This is no big deal for Claude. He's killed before. For some of the other Deer this situation is a bit more… traumatic. Ignatz looks quite pale when one of his arrows finds its mark in a bandit's throat, and Marianne continuously mumbles prayers even before her nosferatu sucks the life of an axeman.

Hilda is just annoyed she's getting blood on her clothes. Her weapon is easily the messiest out of everyone's, being a hammer. It's amusing to Claude that the person who pretends to be frail and weak would choose the single most heavy weapon out there. It's a mordenkrad, a hammer with an oversized head, and the weapon is nearly as tall as Hilda. The head alone is at least twenty pounds, and the weapon as a whole is probably closer to thirty.

"'_Weak' huh? Not helping your lie Hilda._"

Lysithea, despite being the youngest of them, is also rather unaffected. Her mouth thins into a line when she strikes down her first victim, but that's the extent of her reaction. Leonie and Lorenz's reactions are similar.

It's hard to say what Raphael's reaction is. He's too busy punching the other bandits to worry about his first kill. Maybe that's for the best.

Byleth does surprisingly little. Despite his order to stay behind him, he fights defensively and focuses on giving orders more than killing anything himself. He gives out some debilitating injuries, aiming for the arms mostly, but only kills once or twice, and Claude suspects that's intentional. He's leaving the bulk of the work to them while doing just enough to reduce the danger, and letting them get used to killing. He's helping, _not_ doing the job for them.

Normally Claude would understand that, but in this situation he would appreciate a bit more involvement from him. Not that he thinks they're going to lose; but with lives on the line, maybe a _bit_ of protectiveness would be nice.

They take a small hill on the side of the valley without too much trouble. They're at the very entrance to the valley so it's not very wide across at this point, and Claude can see most of the bandits haven't gone further in.

The most dangerous of the bandits quickly prove not to be the axemen, but the archers. Axemen might look scary, but they're predictable and untrained. Archers though, archers _have_ to be trained (or at least self-taught) or else they wouldn't be able to shoot their bows close to accurately in the first place. A well-placed arrow can be just as fatal as a hit from an axe, and can do so from several dozen of meters away.

Claude would know, that's what _he_ does. That's why he's focusing less on the axemen charging at them and more on the bushes and ridge line looking for those archers. He sees one to his right, peeking over an incline leading down to the canyon proper, and he shoots them immediately. His arrow thankfully flies true; that's one less threat that could hit them unawares.

With no archers obviously around, he turns his attention back to his teammates. He snipes a brigand trying to flank Leonie, who is already in combat, and takes a few potshots at the people fighting Hilda. He has to remind himself to look elsewhere after a dozen seconds, he can't let himself get distracted watching Hilda demolish people.

The fight ends rather abruptly. The lead brigand rushes off a small platform from where he was watching the fight and charges right past their frontline towards Marianne and Lysithea. He knocks aside Leonie when she tries to intercept, and the girl is honestly lucky the man's axe didn't take her head off.

The leader doesn't get far. Byleth's dagger finds home in his neck before he gets even halway to his targets. Claude's arrow is next, followed by Ignatz's. Before realizing he's already dead, Lysithea had fired off a miasma that takes a chunk out of his stomach.

The (extremely unnecessary) coup de grace is Hilda's mordenkrad whistling through the air and obliterating the man's skull with a startlingly accurate throw. It's like watching melon getting crushed, except it's made of bone and the splinters and brains are now splattered all over the ground as well as the hammer head (which has left a small furrow where it landed as well).

"Subtle Hilda!" Claude shouts, grinning.

"Shut up Claude!"

###

"Have you noticed Marianne?" Hilda murmurs. She steps over a tree root and smacks a branch out of her way. They're on the way back to the monastery after their successful mission.

"She's an introvert, not invisible." Claude quips. "So yes."

"Ha ha." Hilda huffs. "No, I mean look at how she's acting."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

So Claude does that. Marianne is directly in front of them, so it's not too hard to observe her as they move.

"Is she… _leering_ at Ignatz?"

"Not just him, she's been doing that towards _everyone_." Hilda whispers. "Weird, huh?"

Marianne is the last person Claude would expect to do something like that. Almost as if she realizes it herself Marianne flinches and shakes her head, then casts a nervous glance around to see if anyone notices. Claude pointedly averts his gaze to Hilda when Marianne looks their way, and thankfully she doesn't glance back at them for long.

"She looks kinda guilty about it." Claude notes quietly.

"Yeah, something's up." Hilda agrees. "Should I ask her about it…?"

"Hey, I'm not your father." Claude shrugs. "It's up to you."

"Don't implicate you though?"

"Please don't." Claude agrees. "I'm not so sure she'll tell you anything though."

"Yeah." Hilda sighs. "But I'll try anyways."

A day after they get back to the monastery Marianne is back to normal. Claude furiously scribbles that down into his notebook.

* * *

**Some worldbuilding, some quirks, some hints at quirks. Yeah, this should be a good chapter. I'm having fun with the Claude and Hilda dynamic, can you tell?**


	4. Late Night

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**Worldbuilding, yay! That's my only semblance of a plan going into this chapter, we'll see what else pops up.**

* * *

Normally Claude is a fan of history books. He consumes every one he can get his hands on. Those available at the monastery however are… underwhelming. It's obvious to Claude that they are heavily censored, but there are a few gems of information to be had.

While mostly glossed over, the books do briefly mention eras past. They talk about the rise of the Adrestian Empire of course, as well as the era of Liberation that came before it, but beyond myths about the goddess and the saints there is precisely little information about what civilization was like _before_ the era of Liberation. There is some vague mentions of dragons and the powerful old bloods (who may or may not have been the dominant species at some point. Not the most populous, but _in charge_ so to speak), and some vague implications that angels (like Lorenz) may have controlled the church at some point.

There are some other miscellaneous myths that hint at other things, like the mention of a stupidly powerful species known as the "arcanomoths" that apparently hasn't been seen since before the founding of the Empire, or something called a "lieye" that just isn't explained _at all_ so Claude doesn't have the faintest idea what it was or if it's still around.

Garreg Mach's history books are suspiciously lacking information on the era of Giants too, which came between the goddess's supposed descent and the era of Liberation. The books don't even mention giants at all, or the fact that they went extinct via being killed by old bloods. From Claude's knowledge of history, the timeline is along the lines of: Goddess descends, era of Giants, era of Ancients (the old blood, angels, and demons being dominant races), the era of Liberation, and then the current Imperial era.

That's tentative however. Almyran history books only say so much about Fodlan, and the Alliance, being the newest of the three countries, doesn't have as many records and whatnot as the other two. The Empire likely has all the most detailed history books.

With those out of his reach though, Claude settles for keeping on eye on merchant stocks for history books on sale. There is unsurprisingly few. There are, however, occasionally collections of old myths from across the continent which Claude snaps up. Are they inaccurate? Yes. Might they still hold precious hints about general attitudes towards certain ideas or species? Also yes.

Claude is glad student's rooms don't get searched at random, or his ever-increasing book collection might raise eyebrows… not to mention is poison brewing kit. Actually, the poison kit would probably grab more attention now that he thinks about it. They might even overlook the gunpowder.

"_I should really hide this stuff._" Claude muses. "_Just in case._"

###

Darkvision is fun, especially when others don't have it. Claude doesn't have to give away his position by carrying a torch, and there's no real risk of him tripping because he can navigate perfectly fine. The guards need torches to see because they're human, but that means their sight is limited to the torchlight. It's effortless to sneak by them.

There are a few places on Claude's list tonight. He wants to check Manuela's office. He's hoping that because of how disorganized she is he'll be able to find something useful. If there's anyone who'll have left something important lying around, it's her. Claude would check Hanneman's too but… well he's a ghost, so sleep isn't exactly something he does. Claude also intends to poke around in the library. There's a restricted section in the back, guarded by the monks. He's hoping at this time of night that there won't be anyone to stop him poking around.

The results are… less than impressive. Manuela has a few miscellaneous notes on treating certain students that intrigue him, like a warning that Bernadetta receives healing magic and vulneraries poorly, and instead it would be prudent to give her a _mana potion_ of all things to help her heal, or use reconstruction magic if the situation is dire.

Reconstruction magic is much less delicate than healing magic. It's used for big things like fixing furniture, structures, and generally _non-biological_ things. It can be used on a person in place of healing magic, but without masterful control the results tend to be… messy. It's too imprecise to fix veins and tissue and such.

If the note recommended only reconstruction magic Claude would assume the girl is a golem, but a mana potion? That complicates things. The note also mentions that they can contact… some person Claude doesn't recognize to help as well, which is weird because it implies Manuela just doesn't have the skills necessary to heal Bernadetta in some fashion.

Another oddity is for Mercedes. To help her, the note just says "can consume anything to heal herself". Now _that_ is a tell… that Claude can't place. A species that heals itself by eating or 'consuming' things doesn't spring to mind. There are certainly undead that consume things, but usually it would be something specific, not _anything_.

Claude, who brought his notebook along this time, scribbles it all down before moving on.

There simply isn't time to read as much as Claude wishes he could in the library before he needs to leave to actually get some sleep. He finds a promising book or two, but doesn't get very far before he needs to stop.

As Claude is moving back to his room, he spots something interesting. One of the people he read about in Manuela's notes, Mercedes, is casually wandering the monastery grounds. She even passes by some guards who nod and make no move to stop her. This must be normal, but why is Mercedes allowed to do something like this? _Why_ is she doing something like this?

Curiosity wins out over his need for sleep, and he trails Mercedes from (what he hopes is) a safe distance. She navigates the twisting paths of the monastery easily and stops on the path behind the storehouse where the wall is low and one can easily see the stars and the fires of villages and camps below on the mountain trails.

Mercedes moves toward a bench, and Claude spies a large rock in her way. Knowing her clumsy reputation, he fully expects her to trip on it but… she doesn't. She steps on it, but there is no loss of balance whatsoever. She continues walking as if she didn't step on anything at all; a difference from her usual self.

She takes a seat on a bench and starts stargazing. The moon is half full, but the light still illuminates her features a bit. Just enough, in fact, for Claude to notice that some parts of Mercedes seem weirdly translucent, but it's inconsistent. A ghost, for example, is uniformly translucent for their entire body. For Mercedes, it's her hair, her fingertips, and just small parts of her body. That's definitely going in his notes.

Not expecting anything else for a while, Claude resigns himself to going back to bed.

###

Claude blinks awake at the sensation of someone poking his cheek. He feels awful to be honest. He stayed up way too long digging through things in the library, then following Mercedes. He just wants to slee-

"_Shit, I'm in a class._" Claude forces himself to sit up slowly, unobtrusively. He sat behind a pillar today for a reason. Then he notices everyone getting up and leaving. Class is over? How long was he sleeping for? He glances at the person who woke him up, Hilda of course, and she merely raises an eyebrow at him.

"Feel more awake?"

"I wasn't _sleeping_." Claude lies with an easy grin. "I was… writing."

"You were lying against _me_ Claude, not the desk." Hilda snorts.

Welp, there goes that lie. "And you didn't wake me up? Hilda, what am I supposed to do about notes?!" Claude gasps with fake offence in his voice. "Do you _want _me to steal them from someone? Are you driving me to-"

"Oh shush drama queen, I made notes." Hilda huffs. "You can copy later."

"Hilda? Making notes? Is this a dream?" The half elf gasps again. "Hit me Hilda, wake me up for true!"

She raises an eyebrow. "I think you'd prefer _not_ to have broken bones. Look, do you want my notes or not?"

"Ah, uh, yes please." Claude coughs. He clumsily puts his things away, praying the teacher (Manuela) didn't notice him sleeping the whole class. Thankfully she's busy talking to Marianne, so even if she did Claude manages to slip out of the class unharried.

"Claude!"

_Mostly_ unharried. It's not like Lorenz to pass up an opportunity to bother him after at all. "Hey Lorenz, need some help with the lesson material? You've come to the right person."

"Do not _mock_ me. I saw you sleeping the whole class! For _shame_! You are supposed to be the heir to the Alliance, and yet you act in such a disgraceful manner!"

"Hey, calm it down lightbug, I was up later working last night." Claude isn't lying_,_ but he's taking advantage of a technicality for sure. "Besides, Hilda paid attention. I'll just copy off her, no big deal."

"No big deal?" Lorenz sounds offended. "You have a responsibility to the other students as house leader to be a proper role model!"

"Sheesh, okay." Claude mutters.

"And could you not have chosen a better place to sleep? Using Hilda as a pillow is _most_ uncouth! And you Hilda, you should not be allowing such a thing!"

"Yeah yeah." Hilda says dismissively; clearly indifferent to what Lorenz is saying.

"You could have at least moved him to your shoulder instead of-"

"Yeah, _whatever_, we get it." Hilda interrupts. She flips her hair dismissively and pulls Claude along towards… somewhere that Lorenz _isn't_. Thankfully the angel doesn't follow them as they move towards the dining hall.

"What do we have next again?" Claude asks. He rubs his eyes and hides a grimace. He really feels like shit right now.

"Professor Eisner's class."

That's not good. Teach's class is always the most physically demanding, and Claude is _not_ in a condition to do that right now. He doesn't really have a choice though. "R-Right." He yawns.

Hilda shakes her head. "That's what you get for sneaking around all night."

"Come on, I had to!" He insists. "Or I _wanted_ to at least…"

Hilda rolls her eyes.

###

Claude is used to being able to take care of himself if needed. Even if he's tired he can still shoot a bow or swing a dagger. He's handled himself while more exhausted than he was yesterday before.

That's why he _hates_ being this sick. It's the one thing that totally removes his ability to defend himself. He can barely drag himself out of bed if he needs to. This is the consequence of him spending too much time out that night, isn't it? That night and Teach's training the next day totally ruined him. Exhaustion and exertion is a terrible combination.

"Stop squirming!" Hilda huffs. "Geeze Claude, you're supposed to be _relaxing_."

For once, Hilda being here doesn't make him feel more comfortable. Some part of him is ashamed of that. Hilda is his closest ally and has helped him dozens of times, but he just can't relax knowing how incapable he is of self-defence right now. He has zero reason to assume Hilda will hurt him in any way, but his instincts still whisper at him to be wary of her.

Claude was trying to sit up, insisting that he was fine enough to care for himself so Hilda could just leave, until the girl plants a hand on his chest and (slowly) pushes him back down. With her incredible strength Claude really doesn't have a choice in the matter, but the action still makes him more nervous than it has any right to.

"Manuela said not to get up. If I have to hold you down all day, I will." Hilda threatens.

"How forward!" Claude jokes weakly.

"Ha ha." The pink-haired girl snorts. She doesn't remove her hand from his chest as she grabs the wet cloth from his bedside table, squeezes it, and drapes if over his forehead. "Now stay still for Goddess's sake."

Claude reluctantly complies. He still feels nervous about it though.

###

Hilda shakes her head. It took way longer than it should have for Claude to actually go back to sleep. He was weirdly reluctant about it. At least he's asleep now, though for how long she has no idea.

Darkvision means Claude's eyes are _very_ sensitive to light, so the room has been made as dark as possible. The curtains are closed, there's no candle, and Claude even put a cloth over his eyes just to block out any extra light that managed to worm by the curtains or under the door.

There is, however, enough light to read by if you sit near the window, and that's exactly what Hilda is doing. She has Claude's notebook in her hand and is flipping through the pages. She doesn't feel like she's being particularly intrusive. After all, she knows for a fact that Claude has gone through her things at _least_ once, and probably a few times. His paranoia is not news to her. That's why she doesn't feel bad about looking through his things in return.

The notebook is… well, it's more of a binder than a book actually. It has wooden clasps along the spine that can be opened to rearrange the pages within. It's separated into three parts: the first is a roster, with each person having at least one dedicated page with every scrap of information Claude has managed to find on them scribbled down. To her amusement, Hilda herself has the most dedicated pages at five. It details everything from what he knows on her species, familial background, possible goals, personality notes, and even more basic things like likes, dislikes, and what foods and drinks she enjoys.

No one else has anywhere close to that many pages. The most others have are two, like Lorenz, Raphael, and Ignatz, and that's just because of how forthcoming they are with information about themselves.

The second section is Claude's idea on the world's timeline of history and all associated notes and musings. It's dense, confusing, and he clearly is having trouble placing certain events and sorting through some contradictory information. Hilda skims that section, it's not really her forte or to her interests.

The last section is dedicated to plans, personal notes, and immediately relevant information. It's the least thick section, though Hilda knows any pages Claude doesn't need anymore he puts in an entirely separate notebook for safekeeping, so it's likely the last section has a high page turnover rate and could be more dense than the rest put together if he kept all his old notes there. Some of the notes seem _very_ personal, so Hilda only skims this section too.

She does notice two instances of the note "You owe Hilda cake, again" though. Hilda can't help but grin to herself upon seeing that.

When she's read everything she cares to, Hilda puts the notebook away. Claude will probably know she looked through it but she doesn't really care. He's done the same to her after all.

With that done she pulls out Claude's school books and her own. He was too tired to copy anything last night, so she _supposes_ it falls to her.

"_Better make that three cakes Claude. You're racking up my debt._" She huffs silently.

###

Hilda is keeping an eye on him. She's not even particularly subtle about it. She's hovering behind him constantly, keeps "forgetting" that his books aren't hers so that she "accidentally" carries them around for him, and keeps glancing at him during class.

"I'm fine Hilda, seriously."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Hilda says, not looking at him.

"I'm feeling a lot better today, you don't have to watch out for me." Claude insists. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

"Nope, you're imagining things." Hilda insists. She turns up her nose to ignore him when he gives her a pointed stare. Claude laughs silently.

Coming up with a quick plan as they're walking, Claude _conveniently _trips over a loose stone. It's a fake stumble to begin with; exaggerated to make it _look_ like he's going to fall. Hilda predictably reacts by grabbing the back of his shirt with her free hand and hauling him into the air before he's even halfway down.

Hilda opens her mouth to scold him, but Claude grins cheekily and cuts her off. "Not looking out for me huh?"

The girl's expression turns into a scowl. Rather than putting him down, she just drapes him over her shoulder like a sack of grain and marches off towards their next class. Claude laughs out loud the entire way there.

* * *

**Yes, I **_**am**_ **being intentionally vague about what species most of the other students are. It would be no fun if I revealed everything right away.**


	5. The Importance of Information

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**I'm still trying to figure out the balance of this story. How much of everything I should focus on and whatnot and how the pacing should work. Hopefully it will come to me soon.**

* * *

Hanneman taught courses on a few things. Anima magic and archery chief among them (but mostly anima magic). What Claude appreciates about the ghost's lectures (though most people hated theses parts) is how the man included generous doses of history into his teachings. When explaining a spell, he will often explain the history of how it was discovered and perfected. Being a few hundred years old and having read neary every book that's come through the library (even, he'll admit, the ones Seteth tries to remove) makes the man a fountain of knowledge.

"Meteor," the ghost explains. "Is an old spell in the history of the world. Older, in fact, than most intermediate spells. Meteor preceded Bolganone and Cutting Gale. It was a favourite of all the old, powerful magic species. Dragons, Arcanomoths, and really _any_ creature with sufficient magical power would usually have Meteor in their arsenal. This includes things like Balors and sufficiently powerful liches. If you'll note, all of these beings have not been seen in a _very_ long time. Indeed, _any_ species of sufficient danger to the world at large, even if they had no intent of it, were removed by the old bloods during the Era of Ancients."

A majority of the students looks _incredibly_ bored. Lysithea taps her quill impatiently on her desk and is making a small pool of ink there, and Linhardt stopped paying attention a good ten minutes ago.

Claude isn't even technically a part of this class, but thankfully it takes place during his free time and Hanneman hardly minds him listening in, so he pays attention from the back with notebook in hand.

"In more modern times Meteor is the crowning achievement of fire magic, but is thought to be largely impractical due to the fact that most people can only use it once or twice before exhausting themselves." Hanneman explains. "Though it's incredible range can be put to some use in niche military situations, but otherwise Bolganone is usually the spell of choice for a powerful fire mage, or Thoron if a mage wishes for a spell with a bit of extra range."

"Can _you_ use Meteor Professor?" Dorothea calls from the middle of the classroom.

"Of course." Hanneman affirms. "I can indeed miss Arnault. I would demonstrate, however the sheer destruction of such a spell, even on the training grounds, makes a demonstration ill-advised. Indeed Meteor will be the one spell I shall _not_ be teaching in this class due to the impractical logistics of finding a suitable training space."

Dorothea seems disappointed. Claude chuckles to himself as he writes in his notes, then raises his hand. "Hey Prof!"

"Yes Mr. Reigan?"

"You said any species of sufficient power usually used Meteor, right? Did the effects of their Meteor scale with their power?"

Hanneman considers the question, then speaks. "Well, as with all spells the power of Meteor scales with one's magical potential. If you are asking if the _size_ of Meteor would scale, and hit a larger area… only minorly. Spells are designed to function within specific parameters, and Meteor is no exception. Only a few choice spells have built-in variability in their properties besides power. Those spells would be things like Warp or Rescue, where the effect is static and the _range_ is variable. Fortify and Restore are the only standard spells to have variable _effect_ _size_."

"Got it." Claude nods. He flips to the back of his notes and draws a line through a few of them. "_Well there goes that theory. I guess Meteor couldn't have been used to make the Red Canyon._"

###

Dreams aren't too unusual for Claude. He gets nightmares sometimes just like everyone else, has nice dreams most of the time, and weird dreams only rarely. Standard stuff. Tonight's dream, however, is one of the weird ones…

...because Linhardt is there.

"Hmm…" The green-haired boy yawns, glancing at the scene in front of them. Claude watches his younger self practicing the use of a bow in some woods just outside his old home. "Oh, I guess I missed my target. Shame…"

Claude himself is sitting on a log off to the side, watching his younger self shooting and Linhardt wandering casually around the clearing. He's had dreams of his younger self before, but _never_ Linhardt. He's barely interacted with the boy, why would he be dreaming of him now? It's not like Linhardt particularly stood out. Quite the opposite in fact.

"It'll be too much effort to get to her, I might as well call it quits." Linhardt sighs.

Claude watches as the boy just… pops out of existence.

Maybe he shouldn't have drank so much tea before bed. Maybe there was something weird in it.

That has to be it. It has to be.

###

"Well, don't you two look positively cheery." Claude chirps and slumps into his seat with a leisurely grin. Hilda does the same next to him, not caring that both Hubert and Dedue are standing behind their respective masters rather than sitting. She immediately snags a biscuit off the platter in front of her and starts eating. "Heya Princess, Blue, why the tense faces?"

That's an unnecessary question. He heard the two talking in sharp whispers about the church before he got here. Five minutes late and you miss everything huh?

"You are _late_. I would thank you not to waste Lady Edelgard's time like that in the future." Hubert growls. Edelgard holds up a hand to stop him.

"It's fine Hubert. I'm sure Claude came from something important, didn't he?" She says it kindly, but her expression is one of cold amusement. Claude gets the impression that she knows full well he was listening in on them before making an entrance.

"Of _course_ princess. This hair won't style itself!" He says, threading a hand through his braids. "You know how it is, don't you? I won't believe you hair is naturally that silky."

"And you would be right, I do put some effort into it." Edelgard nods. "However, that is not what I wished to discuss with you both."

"Oh, really?" Claude leans back and puts his hands behind his head. He's trying to look as casual and calm as possible. "Do tell. What could have gotten _your_ hair in a twist? And without Hubert killing it five times over?"

"It is not an _issue_ per say…" Edelgard says slowly. She stirs her tea pensively. "Claude, what is your opinion on the Church?"

"It's big." Claude says coyly. "And religious."

Edelgard sighs and Dimitri gives him a flat look. Claude grins back at them.

"What do you want me to say Princess? That I hate the Church? That I love it?" He shrugs casually. "Why does my opinion matter in the first place?"

Claude is _not_ going to be the first to put metaphorical cards on the table. Hilda, on the other hand… "The church is great, isn't it? I mean, it's _so_ helpful, and they make sure everyone shows respect to the Goddess!"

Hilda says this, and then flicks her twintails over her shoulders. That's a signal between herself and Claude, saying that she's instigating. She's saying something she may not believe just to get the conversation started.

Edelgard raises an eyebrow. "Helpful? I suppose so. They do provide assistance where the three great powers occasionally cannot."

"Indeed!" Dimitri nods rapidly. "They have proven quite helpful!"

"However…" Edelgard says. "Surely you have noticed some inconsistencies though?"

"Oh?" Hilda tilts her head, playing dumb. "I don't know what you mean! I just think they're nice."

"Do illuminate us Edelgard." Dimitri prompts.

Claude doesn't change his position, but he's paying sharp attention now. Hubert seems to be staring him down, which is interesting.

"The church promotes peace, but have you noticed how uncharacteristically brutal they are with insurgents against _themselves_?" Edelgard offers. "Even small offences are met with brutality so long as they are directed at the church."

"I dunno, remember that guy that ranted at the door of the monastery? Seteth was pretty nice to him." Hilda says. She's blatantly choosing the most tame example she can think of, though only Claude would know that. It's not like Edelgard or Dimitri interact with Hilda on a regular basis. Claude barely has to say anything here, Hilda is handling it wonderfully. Edelgard knows Claude is clever, so she would never fall for it if he tried to insist he was ignorant about the church at large. Hilda, on the other hand, has a reputation as an airhead so she can pull it off easily and get Edelgard to talk and explain herself more than she would otherwise.

"Well yes." Edelgard admits reluctantly. "However, such a thing is only characteristic of Seteth. Rhea has historically been much less forgiving."

"Are you implying something against the archbishop Edelgard?" Claude suddenly asks.

"Of course not Claude, I am merely making an observation to gather your thoughts on the matter." She replies smoothly. "Why, pray tell, would you assume such a thing?"

"It seemed to be what you were doing." Claude shrugs. "If that _wasn't_ your intent, you might want to be more careful about it. Considering, you know, that we're in the central church and all."

"I'll take your words under advisement." Edelgard responds. She clearly has no intent to do so. "Have you anything else to say?"

"Not really." Claude shrugs. That's a lie, he could say quite a bit about the church, but he thinks it might be a better idea to _not_ let Edelgard know his position on the matter.

Edelgard looks unimpressed, so does Hubert. Dimiri is watching with curiosity, and Dedue… doesn't look like he cares. He's just here to watch over Dimtri.

"Well then, I see we have nothing to discuss." Edelgard frowns. She stands up and nods to both of them. "Good day."

Claude watches her leave, feigning boredom. He snags a cookie and nibbles on it. "Well, that wasn't weird at all."

"Indeed." Dimitri agrees. "Quite odd." He too stands up, and bows slightly to Claude. "I must be off, good day Claude." The prince walks off, and Dedue follows.

Claude and Hilda wait until the others are gone, then Claude speaks. "Well, that wasn't suspicious at all."

"No kidding?" Hilda grabs another cookie and munches on it. "So? What did you pick up?"

"Edelgard wanted to gauge our opinions, and not out of idle curiosity." Claude murmurs. "That was a test."

"For what?"

"I have no idea." Claude admits reluctantly. "But that was a very specific question, pointing out the church's inconsistencies. She didn't choose that arbitrarily."

"Why?"

"She probably has something against the church." Claude ventures. "_Something_, but I don't know what."

"Well, that's _something_ at least." Hilda murmurs.

"Not enough though." Claude mutters. That whole interaction doesn't sit well with him.

###

Due to being foreign royalty, the attention from Petra dating Ashe never really went away. That said, it's not longer brought up at every opportunity now… except by Sylvain. At first Claude thought he was jealous (and maybe he is to a certain extent), but now Claude is fairly sure Sylvain is just messing with Ashe because he thinks it's funny.

"Hey Ashe, have you heard?" Sylvain asks with a wide grin. Ingrid instantly glares at him, silently warning the boy not to say anything. Sylvain predictably ignores her. "You know the thing wildborn do when they want to get married, right?"

Ingrid is already trying to stop him, but Sylvain manages to grab her arm and fend her off. "Don't listen to him!" Ingrid warns Ashe.

Ashe tries to do so, but Sylvain makes sure to say his bit. "You've heard about how they tie people up and drag them away, right?"

"What?" Ashe asks despite himself. Felix, who usually doesn't care about these things, is now giving Sylvain a withering glare as well.

"They don't get married in the normal way, when they decide they want to marry they tie up their chosen partner and drag them off, and they get no say in the matter." Sylvain says cheerily. "So, hope you're prepared for that in a few years.

"Don't. Listen." Igrid hisses, but Ashe already has a horrified look on his face. Felix has now joined in wrestling Sylvain and Ingrid manages to slap a hand over Sylvain's mouth.

"I-Is that true?" Ashe squeaks, glancing at everyone else.

All of the other Lions, of course, reassure him that is isn't. Claude, who is listening in, knows that what Sylvain said is not _entirely_ wrong. The whole "tie up and drag off your partner" thing is an old Brigidine tradition that, from what Claude is aware, the ruling family has been trying to _stop_, so Ashe is in no danger of that whatsoever, but it _does_ still happen in the more traditionalist parts of the country.

Claude knows this from the extensive study he's done on every country he could find information on. Also, he's talked to Petra a few times. She's fun.

So yes, Sylvain is totally fucking with Ashe just because he thinks it's funny.

Claude, now watching Ingrid choke Sylvain while the boy laughs and while Mercedes calms down a somewhat freaking-out Ashe, absently wonders if he should tell Petra about what Sylvain is doing and just let _her_ beat him to a pulp instead for misrepresenting Brigid, the wildborn, and for messing with her (maybe, possibly, it's unclear) boyfriend.

###

"Hilda, I am _not_ helping you skip class. I don't care if I owe you one… or three. If you have a good reason for skipping class, fine, I'll cover for you, but if you just want to be lazy, no." Claude huffs.

"Hey, I helped you when you were exhausted from sneaking around at night!" Hilda pouts. "You could at least help me with _my_ vice!"

That _is_ a good point, but… "Come on Hilda, if you want to use your favor for something _reasonable_, fine, but not to skip class because you can't be bothered. I won't let you waste your favors like that."

"Gee, _thanks_." Hilda huffs. "See if I cover for you again."

Claude is fairly sure that's an empty threat. "Come on, I'll get you a cake instead."

"I'm not Mercedes or Lysithea I'm not a sugar nut." Hilda huffs. "What makes you think you can bribe me with cake?"

"Come on, you were snacking on those cookies as soon as you could get your hands on them. I know you like sweets." Claude smirks. He even dares to poke her in her side, prompting a glare.

"I have a _different_ idea for how you can repay me for _one_ of my favors." Hilda huffs. "I am going shopping on the weekend, and _you_ are coming with me."

"Goddess above, anything but that!" Claude gasps in mock horror. "I've heard horror stories of your shopping trips. Hours and hours of nothing but clothes and accessories!"

Hilda crosses her arms. "How is that a horror story? It's _fun _Claude. Just because you get your kicks sneaking into school offices doesn't mean some of us don't have _normal_ preferences."

"Normal? I've seen the armfuls of clothes you bring back then never wear." Claude says accusingly. "How is that normal?"

"Look, if you don't want to come, fine-"

"No, no, I'll come." Claude chuckles. "I'm just messing with you Hilda. Saturday or Sunday?"

"Saturday."

"I'll be there."

###

Thankfully, Hilda does _not_ make Claude carry all the things she buys. It seems that she just wanted someone to talk to and to give opinions on things to buy.

"It's _boring_ to go alone." She explains. "I'd take Marianne, but… you know how she is."

Yeah, Claude can't see Marianne enjoying a day on the town. Her natural shyness would mean she would barely comment on anything. She'd probably just say "do whatever you want…" when Hilda asks for an opinion.

Poor girl. Weird girl too. In fact…

"Speaking of Marianne… have you noticed anything else _odd_ about her lately?"

"No more than usual, why?"

"I was creeping around last night-"

"Of course you were…"

"-and I saw her going back to her room really late. Probably around midnight." Claude recounts. "What is it with Garreg Mach and people going out at night? First Mercedes, now Marianne. I hear Bernadetta sometimes sneaks out too, and I wouldn't put it past Hubert to be up to something."

"You forgot yourself."

Claude shrugs unapologetically.

"I really don't know." Hilda sighs. "But that _is_ weird. She seems so tired all the time, so maybe that's why. Maybe she's going to pray or something?"

"Maybe…" That doesn't seem right to Claude. It certainly fits Marianne's usual actions to pray a lot, but to sneak out at night just to do it? Unlikely. He might have to do a bit of spying. "Another question. What about that necklace of hers?"

"Huh? That?" Hilda blinks. "She said she got it from her mom."

"Her mother huh? Wasn't she adopted by Lord Edmund? Her mother was probably common, or close to, so that necklace couldn't have been cheap for them."

Marianne's necklace is a sapphire gem on a metal chain. It's not very fancy to be honest. The chain is simple, and the gem rough and not properly cut. The gem is held in place with string. It's a _basic_ necklace at best, which makes it all the more odd that she would have it because it was probably really expensive to get. Sapphires are not cheap.

"Oh! Lysithea did mention she could feel magic coming from it." Hilda offers. "So it's probably a mana gem."

Claude's brow furrows. A mana gem? Why would Marianne need one of those? Maybe it's just to store backup mana for emergencies, but it still seems off. And a _sapphire_ too. They're pretty potent in terms of their ability to hold mana. Her mother gave her a crude but powerful magical aide despite _probably_ not having a lot of money at the time, and having no reason to assume her daughter would ever get mage training (unless it was given to Marianne after she was adopted by Lord Edmund).

"Maybe she has some natural magic?" Claude muses under his breath. That would explain it a bit. "Maybe she's not human? Or has a superpower?"

"Well _duh_, who doesn't in Garreg Mach?" Hilda huffs.

"Ashe, Ferdinand, Alois, Catherine-"

"Wait, Ferdinand? Really?"

"Yep."

"But he's a noble."

"Yep."

"That's so weird."

"Yep."

Claude follows Hilda around for several hours. He'll never admit it to her, but it was actually rather enjoyable. It's been a while since he's taken time to relax, go out to a restaurant, normal stuff.

Even having Hilda ask his opinion on every accessory or piece of clothing isn't that bad. She takes forever changing into each outfit and staring in the mirror to see if it looks good.

Claude will also never admit, despite Hilda teasing him about it, that he was staring at her in all those different outfits. Sue him! Hilda is an attractive girl, what was she expecting?

Well, it's not like she minds. Claude will just have to put up with her poking fun at him for it from now on.

###

Everyone else is freaking out, but Dedue really doesn't seem worried. He just got stabbed in the chest _ten times_, and is bleeding profusely, but all he does is grimace and obliterate his three opponents with harsh swings of his axe.

"Orcs are _tough_, geeze…" Claude mutters. Mercedes fusses over Dedue after he's done, and Marianne looks like she's on the verge of panic. The Blue Lions don't look too concerned, hinting to Claude that this might not be uncommon. Dedue's armor is punctured in multiple places, but he dives right back into the fight.

"Half-orc actually." Dimtri corrects. He grunts and swings his spear wide, smashing the point into a bandit's skull, but he overswings and _accidentally_ dents a tree with the sheer force of the swing. "Those strikes were imprecise, and his armor stopped most of the force. Do not worry, Dedue's wounds were superficial."

Claude shakes his head. It's kinda worrying that they can be so nonchalant about this.

"_Actually,_" Claude thinks, watching as Dimtri cuts down bandits with renewed vigor. His strikes are more forceful and reckless, and the blonde-boy's neutral expression is verging on a snarl. "_Maybe he's not as calm about this as he's pretending to be…_"

The battle is mostly a curb-stomp. Beyond the scare with Dedue there's no other major injuries. Claude tries not to make it obvious that he's watching Dimitri, trying to get a hint of his superpower, but he has no luck detecting anything. The fighting isn't dangerous enough to bring it out Claude guesses, and Dimitri must not be keen on showing it off in the first place.

Ah, whatever. There's plenty of opportunities for him to figure it out in the future.

###

"Claude, why are you so fixated on history and figuring out everyone's species in the first place?" Hilda asks one day. She's never really thought to ask before, but in hindsight it kinda seems important to know, especially since she helps him out all the time.

"Can't a boy just be curious?" Claude asks. "I'm an inquisitive young man, exploring and learning about the world around him."

"Don't give me that bullshit."

The boy snorts and laughs. "It wasn't entirely a lie. I _am_ curious, but I have my own goals that require knowing a lot of stuff."

"Don't give me _vague_ bullshit either." Hilda huffs.

"Come on, can't a man have his secrets?" Claude asks.

"Sure, just don't expect me to help anymore."

"Hilda, what prompted the change of heart?" The boy frowns. This seems rather drastic. "Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just… I have no idea what you're doing. I'm taking your word for it that you're doing something important, or important to yourself at least, but it'd be nice to know what that is if I'm this involved." Hilda replies. "I'm not a pawn that exists just to cover your butt."

"I never said you were!"

"I know, look, I just want to know what's up. I think I deserve to know, right?"

"I guess." Claude agrees reluctantly. His eyes flick side to side, making sure there's no one else listening in on their conversation. "It will sound kind of foolish though."

"Whatever, I want to know." Hilda insists. "Stop being paranoid Claude, I'm not going to stab you if your idea is weird, just tell me."

The half-elf sighs, and leans in to whisper in her ear. "I want to unite Fodlan and end its isolationism, and that means knowing as much as I can about it's history, it's issues, and the people in charge or soon-to-be in charge so I can convince everyone I need to make it a reality."

He leans back, schooling his expression into neutrality. Hilda knows better though. If he was actually calm he would be leaning back in his chair and grinning, or doing _something_ other than sitting straight up in his seat and waiting for her response.

"Well…" Hilda says after a moment of consideration. "I won't say that sounds _realistic_ from my perspective, but I'm not big on politics. If you want to try, I've got your back. Foolish or not, _you_ of all people might be able to make some headway."

"Me of all people? What does that mean?" Claude huffs. He's clearly relieved, and he leans back in his chair while fiddling with a fork. "Hilda, you think I'm odd?"

"Duh." She snorts. "You're weird Claude. If I wasn't around to cover for you, you'd have gotten detention five times by now. Still, you're charming, if a bit manipulative. I think you could do well in politics if you applied yourself."

"Right back at you." Claude grins. "If you just put a bit of effort, you could be a political _force_ Hilda. Brains, brawn, and charm? Deadly combo."

"Pff, there's no point. I'm stuck in my brother's shadow." Hilda waves off the suggestion. "I'll settle for letting you do the hard work."

Claude rolls his eyes. Of course that would be her answer. "Well then, I hope I can count on your continued help, if you can bring yourself to actually do work."

"Enough to get _you_ out of trouble." She retorts.

"Aww, you do care." He says mockingly.

"Well duh. Who said I didn't?"

* * *

**Some plot, some fluff, some hints. I don't know why I've decided Sylvain is a douche, but he is. I still don't have much of an idea on how the plot is going to go down, I want Claude to have an overarching **_**goal**_ **and not just be reacting to the events around him, but "unite everyone" is pretty vague and I'm well aware that prying into everyone's species/superpower doesn't match that goal perfectly. Still, it's a start. I'll figure out something.**


	6. Victims

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**It's hard keeping everyone's backstories straight, not to mention some of the modifications I'm making.**

* * *

Rumors can be a great source of information. If there is even a single unprofessional person in an operation, the details are liable to circulate as rumour in the underground and noble circles. Any noble worth their salt pays attention to rumors. You don't have to believe all of them, just pay attention.

That's how Claude heard whispers that Marianne's adopted father, the Margravate of Edmund, gave the church a large "donation" to keep Marianne's personal details hush-hush. Claude is also aware the girl has a crest of some sort, and that it's unknown to anyone else what her crest is, so he has to wonder if that's the reason for the donation.

Crests are rather weak, highly situational, completely unreliable minor boons granted by having a specific bloodline. They're barely useful, but the church and nobility treat them as the end-all of prestige and importance.

That said, Marianne's potential crest doesn't explain all of her oddities. She has a strange… _cycle… _of sorts. The cycle takes about a week. She'll be fine at the start of the week and over time she'll slowly start to look more weary, more distracted, her gaze will start to wander and she'll stare at the people around her sometimes before realizing what she's doing and vigorously shaking her head to focus herself.

Then, as soon as the new week comes around, she's fine again.

Claude's notes on Marianne are starting to get messy, and he feels like he's just on the cusp of figuring out what the deal is with her. Her state slowly deteriorates over the course of a week, she tends to stare or leer at people near the end of the week, she has an expensive (potentially enchanted?) necklace from her mother that the woman shouldn't have been able to spare money for, and she's vehemently refused to tell anyone what her species is or even give a hint. She also sometimes goes out at night. Claude has spotted her every once in a while, but he's always been doing something else so he's never followed her.

It's rather irritating that Marianne won't tell anyone what she is as well. Claude wants to know out of pure curiosity, so he doesn't begrudge the girl not telling him, but it seems to be causing her grief and from what Claude is aware she hasn't let _anyone_ try to help her because she refuses to reveal what she is or even just what the problem is/what she needs.

Claude is seriously considering either asking Marianne what's going on outright, or stalking her at night to see what she gets up to.

"Both of those sound like terrible ideas." Hilda says bluntly. "Marianne is already shy, you could make it even worse if you confront her."

"What's the alternative? Let her waste away?" Claude frowns.

"Don't give me that." Hilda huffs. "You're considering this because you're curious more than anything, aren't you?"

Claude wishes he could say she's wrong… but she's not. That _is_ the reason he wanted to snoop. "Well yeah, you're right." He admits. "But I also have a point don't I? Marianne doesn't exactly look like she's in a great spot."

Hilda purses her lips, then sighs. "Okay, that's true. Just… don't _confront_ her. Snoop if you have to, but talking to her is going to need a delicate touch that you don't exactly have."

"Hey! I'm good at talking to people."

"You're good at manipulating and prying information out of people." Hilda corrects. "_Not_ comfort or touching on delicate subjects."

Ouch, but true enough. "As if you're not good at manipulating people too."

"Oh I am." She smirks. "I just have more social skills overall."

###

"Ignatz again?" Claude mutters. He scribbles the boy's name down on his list. "He's certainly the most frequent…"

"It seems to be focused around us Deer." Hilda notes. "Ignatz is the most frequent, but sometimes it's Leonie or Lorenz or even Lysithea."

"Never us though." Claude notes. "And Raphael is rare too."

Sometimes it happens outside the Deer. Ashe has been a victim before, as has Sylvain and Ferdinand and even Annette. Linhardt has reported a case before too, but only once.

The 'cases' in question are periods of blank memory. Usually the victim won't remember how they got to bed, or what they did after dinner. These involve people that don't drink or consume drugs of any sort though, so it's not just hangovers or drug-induced blackouts.

Another odd side-effect is that the victim tends to be rather tired in the morning… only to end up feeling much more energetic and generally much more happy over the next few days. Temporary exhaustion leads into an all-around mood boost, which is just plain weird.

"What do all the victims have in common?" Claude muses aloud.

"Who says they need to have anything in common?" Hilda shrugs. "What could do something like this?"

"Memory magic is difficult, but even a sufficiently skilled human can pull it off." Claude mutters. "From what I'm aware at least. The question is more _why_ they would do it. There aren't any negative effects beyond temporary tiredness, and no one has _injuries _or anything. Heck, overall it's more positive because of the mood boost."

"I know that, but you have some ideas, don't you?"

Hilda knows him too well. "A few. We could be looking at feeding of some sort."

"From what? A vamp?"

"Unlikely, they tend to use suggestion magic. False memories rather than erasing them." Claude mutters. "Not that it's impossible, but if you already have a tool that works why use a different one?"

"For situations like this, where we dismiss the possibility." Hilda suggests.

Claude nods. Hilda isn't wrong, that's a totally viable reason to use something other than their natural abilities. "There is also the matter of them leaving bite marks though."

"Maybe they're a healer…?"

"Again, I won't dismiss the possibility, but it seems unlikely." Claude murmurs. "We could be looking at an undead of some sort. There are some that feed on emotion, or small bits of your soul or energy."

"Your _soul_?"

"It's not nearly as bad as it sounds." Claude shrugs. "According to what I've learned, your soul regenerates small parts of itself if they go missing. Kinda like how your body heals small wounds with no long-term effects."

"So a feeding is harmless?"

"Well, if they're not _trying_ to harm you then sure. If they are… you're probably dead."

"Ah."

"Alternatively, it may not be a feeding at all." Claude mutters. "But with memory wiping it could be almost anything and we'd have no idea what's going on."

"I wonder if the church knows and if they're already looking into it." Hilda muses.

"Possible." Claude nods. "I feel like we're missing just one peice of the puzzle…"

###

High elves aren't native to Fodlan proper. They're actually the dominant species of Dagda, which makes it all the more interesting that House Galatea of Faerghus is comprised of high elves. It's not unusual for nobility to not be human despite humanity being the dominant species of Fodlan by a staggering amount. That's not to say the general populous is always happy about that, in fact from what Claude is aware the populous generally distrusts nobles for being not human (and for a dozen other reasons granted), but so long as their highest leaders (the Emperor of Adrestia, the King of Faerghus, and the Alliance Leader) are human they tend to not be _too _on edge, thinking those leaders will keep their non-human nobles in line.

It's a weird conspiracy in Claude's eyes. From what he's aware, it's actually rather _rare _that nobles care about species all that much. Being minorities and growing up around species other than themselves, they don't tend to discriminate by species. By wealth or prestige absolutely, but not species.

Anyhow, Galatea… so, a small side-effect of House Galatea being high elven is that people are constantly suspicious that they're in cahoots with Dagda. It's one of the few times where other nobles _do_ care about species (along with occasions like Tieflings, who have a whole slew of negative stigmas around them, or angels, who tend to have massively positive stigma, and things like that). They have difficulty getting trade routes because no one trusts them (and other reasons), bla bla bla, long story short Ingrid is sort of a pawn in the political marriage game because her house desperately needs allies, or just _anyone_ willing to work with them.

Claude supposes it's not too unusual. Most nobility have to deal with the marriage game, even he does, but it's especially pressing for Ingrid. It's also clear that Ingrid really doesn't want to deal with that shit.

Sometimes her suitors are audacious enough to drop by Garreg Mach. Oh sure, it's always under the guise of checking on a sibling or a child of their (some of her suitors are kind old… ugh), but it's obvious to everyone they're here for Ingrid.

When that happens, Ingrid hides. Not in her room, that's too obvious. She actually hides in Sylvain's. Claude found that out entirely by accident when he saw the redhead rush into the training pit and drag the girl off, whispering a warning that "it's another one!" with a grimace on his face.

For all of his jack-assery, Sylvain does care about his friends it seems. He even goes out of his way to make excuses and mislead suitors that go around asking for Ingrid.

"Do you want me to get him? I'll leave him in a ditch or something, make it look like he was drunk. He'll know something's up though, that might scare him off."

"That would be more trouble than it's worth I think."

"I'm used to trouble." Sylvain shrugs. "I'll do it."

"No." Ingrid sighs. "Besides, he cannot waste much more time trying to find me."

"Hmm… we could get a potion from Annette that will make-"

"No." Ingrid interrupts. "I don't know what you're going to suggest, but no."

"Tch…"

Claude is listening in on this conversation from the table just behind the two. Ingrid is only out of Sylvain's room because the suitor in question went out to the town for a restaurant dinner, so she has a few precious hours of freedom. She's spent nearly two days hiding from this one.

"I could do it easy…" Sylvain says in a quiet voice. Claude is suddenly very thankful for his acute hearing. "Come on."

"_No_ Sylvain."

"I won't leave him in a ditch then. How about I just, ah, 'take him out for dinner'?"

"No." Ingrid mumbles again. "Besides, you said fat and unhealthy, right? You hate that sort of food."

"Aww, thinking of me Ingrid? I'm touched." Sylvain teases. "I can make an exception this time though."

"No."

"It would even save you the troub-"

"_No_."

"Fine, killjoy."

Claude feels like he's overheard something very telling, but the language used makes it hard to tell what they actually mean. 'Take him out to dinner' clearly isn't meant in a literal sense, but Ingrid was talking about fat and greasy food.

Unfortunately for Claude, the two don't continue the conversation, and he groans internally at the loss of information he was _this close_ to hearing.

###

The Blue Lions are being sent on a mission to confront Lord Lonato, which Claude thinks is a bit of a sick joke. Sending Ashe to go kill his father? Rhea has a twisted sense of humor… or she's just an idiot. Or maybe it's to send a message…

Either way, Edelgard's words about the church being brutal against insurgents ring in Claude's mind. In a roundabout way, giving the Blue Lions that mission could be seen as a very personal warning about the dangers of going against the church.

The Eagles are getting a mission, fittingly enough, in the Empire. They're helping deal with a bandit lord that has been rising in Varley territory. It's not said outright, but it's implied the reason that the bandit gang grew so powerful is because Count Varley really just can't be bothered to deal with them because he's too busy using his troops to "keep the peace" in his large cities (see: extort additional money from the richer part of the population), as well as bother merchants travelling along the two main riverways coming down from Garreg Mach.

The Count clearly couldn't care less about protecting the civilians in his county because they already give him a lot of money through taxes, and in his mind apparently using his troops to get more money is much more important than keeping people safe, so the church is sending the Eagles to help the villages crying for help.

The Deer are going to hunt some demonic beasts that's been bothering the border of Garreg Mach and the Alliance under the supervision of the Knights of Seiros. It's no less dangerous than the other missions, but it certainly feels like busywork compared to them.

The night before all the classes are due to leave for their individual missions, someone (Claude heard it was Sylvain, Hilda heard it was Dorothea, but Claude also heard Ferdinand, Lorenz, and even _himself_) organized an impromptu party to calm everyone's nerves.

The party seems to be centered around Ashe. Not that the boy is the life of the party, but that people seem to be making a concentrated effort to keep the boy distracted. Sometimes it's Mercedes and Annette offering his sweets, Lorenz and Ferdinand attempt to discuss noble ideals and tea with the boy (to limited success), and Petra of course who alternatingly badgers him with questions, explains something about Brigid, or drags him into some activity that's going on.

Perta is also not-so-subtly leaning into the boy at any given opportunity, which a few people who are watching (Claude himself, Hilda, Sylvain, Mercedes and Annette) find highly entertaining because Ashe is clearly flustered by it.

As much as Claude disapproves of Sylvain's constant teasing of Ashe, he can sort of see why the older boy does it. Ashe is ridiculously, adorably nervous when it comes to Petra in any fashion. Claude wouldn't be surprised if Petra is intentionally provoking his nervousness just because it's cute. Petra is far from oblivious, so she's probably noticed the effect she has on him.

Ashe may be the center of the party, but there are certainly other things happening. There's an arm wrestling competition happening that Claude is fairly sure Raphael is going to win (if only because Hilda isn't participating), as well as some truth or dare game being lead by Sylvain (somehow he's dragged Ingrid, Felix, Ferdinand and Lorenz, and Leonie into it), and a number of small conversations happening off to the side.

"Are you going to join in something, or just creepily watch everyone from the corner?" Hilda asks.

"Hey, you're here too."

"Yeah, but I'm lazy. What's your excuse?"

"I'm hanging out with my friend, is that so wrong?" Claude replies cheekily.

"When you're using it as an excuse to spy on everyone it is."

"I'm not _spying_… I'm supervising."

Hilda snorts and shakes her head at his obvious bullshit.

###

Lysithea is itching to fight, it's obvious. However… it doesn't seem to be bloodlust. The girl seems physically uncomfortable, and her hands are constantly twitching and summoning little flares of miasma.

Claude isn't sure how conscious the flares are. Lysithea is aware of them of course, but she seems irritated _at_ them, as in they're not _expressions _of her irritation but the _cause _of her irritation.

That has some implications of control issues for Lysithea, which is the last thing Claude expected from her.

Marianne is hanging at the back of the group. Claude knows today is near the end of her 'cycle', where she starts to stare at people and is clearly weary and not feeling well. Her hands grip the gem on her necklace as she tries to force herself to look down rather than looking at other people.

Everyone else seems nervous about the mission, more so than the bandits. Demonic beasts are no easy feat to take down, and they hit _hard_. The only person who seems enthusiastic is Leonie, who is clearly excited at the chance to prove herself against such a difficult foe. Ignatz is obviously worried, Raphael is calmer than most but still anxious, Hilda… looks bored, Lorenz is blustering about his power to hide his nerves, and the Professor looks like he couldn't care less as always.

Hilda has apparently decided it's too much effort to pretend that she has a hard time carrying her mordenkrad, so she's carrying it normally this time. She's still whining and complaining about the long march, but, amusingly, she's probably going to be the _least_ tired of everyone just due to the inherent physical traits of her species.

"Hildaaaa." Claude whines with an obvious smirk on his face. "I'm tiiiired, carry me?"

Hilda glares at his obvious mockery of her usual attitude. "Weren't you the one telling _me _not to ask for that?"

"But you're strong, and I'm just a _delicate little flower_." Claude says, mimicking her usual pleading voice. "I can barely carry my ridiculously heavy weapon despite throwing it across a field last battle!"

"Fuck you Claude."

"Hilda! There are people around!" Claude gasps sarcastically. "And dinner first, please!"

"One of these days I'm going to actually take you up on one of your joke suggestions and make a fool out of you." She threatens.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Claude teases. "I think you'll be too lazy to bother."

Hilda narrows her eyes. "You'll regret taunting me. I'll get you."

"Suuure." Claude says as he throws his arms behind his head and grins at her. "If you say so Hilda."

###

"Hilda! Stop doing all the work!" Byleth shouts and the girl brings her mordenkrad down on the head of another demonic beast and splits it open like a dark, gross watermelon. "Other people are supposed to fight too!"

"I can't believe someone actually said that." Claude chuckles. "Hilda, _stop_ working? That's her dream come true."

Demonic beasts are strong, but Hilda is easily stronger. It's only taken a few hits from her hammer to kill each of them so far, and with half of them gone now the rest of the class won't even get the chance to kill one themselves if Hilda keeps up her pace.

"Geeze!" Hilda huffs in annoyance. She swings her hammer up onto her shoulder, ignoring the gore dripping off the head or how her outfit is splattered with black blood from her squishing heads like fruit. "You're always telling me to do more and the one time I do you tell me to _stop_? Make up your mind Professor!"

Claude makes himself look away from Hilda to focus on the beast the rest of them are fighting. The lizard-like demonic beast is deceptively agile for it's huge size. It's head snakes out to bite at them before retracting in like a huge, ugly turtle. Raphael is up close and personal with it, but even he seems to be having trouble dealing any real damage. In fact, only a select few of the Deer have managed any significant damage.

One of those people is Lysithea, who seems eager to have a target. She slams down spell after spell on the monster at a rate greater than what she usually manages. The power of her spells also seems to be increased, which is weird but not something Claude is going to argue with at the moment. He does wonder what brought this on though. He remembers how she kept conjuring small miasma flashes earlier, and wonders if it's possible she was _leaking_ magic. Is that a thing mages do?

Lorenz might not be able to hurt the beast, but he has something to contribute despite that. He stands just behind Raphael and occasionally turns his natural light powers on full-force to blind the monster.

It takes a few full minutes for Lysithea to blast down the fiend. Everyone cheers when she lands the final blow… only to remember there's still four more.

"So, I know they're supposed to get practical experience and everything, but do I really have to wait for them to finish?" Hilda huffs from off to the side. She's done as she was asked and hasn't _killed_ another demonic beast, but she is holding one by the neck and forcing its face into the ground with one hand while restraining one of its paws with her other hand. The creature's other front claw futilly tries to reach over its body to swipe at Hilda, but it doesn't have that range of motion. "Look, if you want the others to kill them, sure, but can I at least hold them down or something to make it faster?"

"No." The professor says bluntly. He seems unfazed by Hilda's casual show of strength, while everyone else in the class is staring wide-eyed at Hilda casually restraining a beast with her bare hands. "They need to know how to fight demonic beasts without an overwhelming advantage."

"Boo." Hilda huffs. She looks at the rest of them. "Hurry up then! It's too hot out here, I want to get back!"

She releases the beast and forcefully shoves it back so it won't swipe at her. The creature is sent reeling backwards from the force of the shove and falls on its side for a second before it can roll up to its feet again.

It takes about half an hour to deal with all the demonic beasts. Hilda is very vocal about how bored she is the entire time, and when they're having trouble killing the last beast because they're exhausted Hilda walks in and calmly breaks it's legs with her hammer to make the process quicker.

She gets a light scolding for that, but all the other Deer are appreciative.

* * *

**Okay, there should be enough hints now for people to make educated guesses at Marianne's species now (especially if you're familiar with my other Fire Emblem stories and recognize the signs). You might be able to guess Sylvain too.**


	7. Comfort and Recognition

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**This story isn't so far along that I can't incorporate Abyss and the Wolves a bit, right? Right. Cool.**

* * *

"This is a terrible idea." Hilda grumbles, glancing at the rising moon. "Why am I here? You could be sleeping. _I _could be sleeping."

"Because I can't lift boulders over my head like they're pebbles." Claude says cheerily. "Mind lifting these?"

"It's a wall Claude. I'm not going to destroy a wall for no reason." The wall in question is the wall supporting the stairs to the Sauna.

"Not _just_ a wall." Claude chuckles. "Trust me. Pull out the loose rocks."

Hilda sighs, cracks her knuckles, and grabs two of the large blocks of stone out of the wall and effortless tosses them aside. She can instantly see what Claude is talking about. There's a hole in the wall behind the well-placed stones.

"When did you discover this?" Hilda mutters as she pulls the rest of the stones out of the way. She glances around them, making sure no guards are around or that Professor Eisner hasn't stuck his head out his door and spotted them. After all, they're less than a dozen meters away from his room. "How did no one else discover this?"

"It's not obvious when you look at it." Claude shrugs. "And it would have to be well-hidden, this isn't exactly an inconspicuous spot. I think this passage was in use when the dormitories used to be over where the knight halls are and this area was undeveloped. A few hundred years ago if my research is right."

"You know Garreg Mach's construction history?"

"_Hanneman_ knows Garreg Mach's construction history." Claude corrects as he ducks into the tunnel. "I only asked about this area in particular after I spotted the tunnel. Drag the stones in behind us by the way. Make it look like something collapsed. You can just shove them out of the way as we leave."

Hilda grumbles about the work, but complies. "How did you spot the tunnel? You can barely see it behind the rocks. Heck, you can lean against the rocks and they won't give."

"I was creeping around one night-"

"Of course you were."

"-and I saw a light flicker from between two of the stones." Claude says in a whisper. "It was only for a moment, but that's how I noticed there was a space behind here. Of course, I couldn't get in here by myself without taking a lot of time and making a lot of noise. Hence you."

"And here I thought you wanted backup. No, you just want muscle." Hilda grumbles.

"Hey, backup is nice... except that I'd rather not put you in harm's way if I think something might actually be dangerous. This is _my_ curiosity we're investigating here." The boy admits. "If I didn't need the rocks moved, I would have investigated myself and told you about it afterwards."

"Then you're an idiot." Hilda huffs. "Investigating a potential smuggler's route on your own with no hiding places? Without space to move around, you could get shanked and not be able to move out of the way Claude. Or you could turn a bend and be face-to-face with ten people."

"Good thing I needed your help then huh?"

Hilda glares at him. Or, well, at his forehead.

"You can't see, can you?" Claude realizes belatedly.

"Oh good, you _do_ remember I'm not a dark elf like you." She snarks.

"Half dark elf." Claude corrects in a mumble. "Shit, uh... hold my hand?"

"This is romantic to you? Weirdo."

"No, I mean, I'll lead you around." Claude groans. "Just... keep your head ducked, okay?"

Hilda grumbles something about how she should have stayed in her room, but grabs his hand when he taps his fingers against hers. Despite what her immense strength would suggest, her palms aren't all that calloused. Maybe it's because her skin is naturally durable, and she doesn't exert her huge strength on a regular basis, so her body never needs to respond with building up callouses.

That's Claude's theory anyways.

Leading Hilda around by the hand wasn't part of his plan, and it slows them down a bit, but while the tunnel is old and dusty it thankfully doesn't seem to be damaged and the floor is relatively flat, so Hilda rarely stumbles despite her lack of sight.

The tunnel is short, only taking about ten minutes to traverse even at their reduced speed. Claude meets a dead end, blocked by a combination of wood, stone blocks, and dirt.

"Huh."

"What?"

"Dead end." Claude says. "But there's stone blocks here and wooden planks, like a collapsed building blocked it off rather than a cave-in."

"We're underground, right? Why would there be buildings down here?"

"I wonder..." Claude muses. "Aren't there rumors around campus of an underground something-or-other?"

"The Abyss?"

"Yeah, that."

"Yeah. Holst mentioned it to me before I left for here. I figured it was just another baseless rumor, like how the sauna supposedly changes location every year but the staff all deny that it's ever been relocated."

"Really? That's a rumor?"

"Back in my brother's time it was. Not so much now." Hilda shrugs. "So what do we do? Are we going to dig out the rubble?"

"Hmm..." Claude considers it for a second, then shakes his head. "Not tonight. We have no idea how long it could take. We'll come back with shovels or something... or maybe just gauntlets so you don't hurt your hands while punching through it or something. That would probably be faster anyways."

"Manual labour, yay." Hilda says dryly. "Can we go now if we're done?"

"Fine, fine. Let's move." Claude sighs.

It takes longer for them to get back to the entrance because Hilda has to lead (and even if Claude could squeeze to the other side, the entrance is blocked and Hilda has to be the one to push everything out of the way.

"How did you see a light if this thing is all blocked up?" Hilda asks curiously. "How would someone have gotten in and out without disturbing the stones and being noticed? We only got through the wall so quick because I'm stupidly strong."

"That's... huh. Good question." Claude frowns. "I saw the light only a week ago. Unless the collapse happened literally within the last week, I don't know what it could have been. That _is_ weird."

That's something to scribble down in his notebook when he gets back to his room. This whole expedition, short as it is, has been immensely interesting.

###

Claude blinks awake. He yawns, stretches, then freezes. He stares at the outdoor clothes he's wearing, and the shoes still on his feet.

He's in his bed.

"Okay..." Claude mumbles and forces down a flash of panic. "Ooooookay..."

He pats himself down, checking for injuries. He finds none. He feels exhausted though, which is unusual because last night he... he...

Uh...

He had dinner and then... then he...

...

What _did_ he do?

He clumsily checks through his pockets, pulling out his various daggers, a spare quill and single sheet of parchment, and his room key. That's fairly standard for him to have on his person. No coin pouch, so he wasn't buying anything, and he didn't have his notebook so he must not have been visiting Hilda for a late-night talk.

Hilda, Hilda! Maybe he told her what he was doing beforehand. He hopes he did, because this random exhaustion and lack of memory is an obvious case of what's been happening to Ignatz and the others. Maybe this is a clue!

His enthusiasm is a bit tampered by his sheer tiredness. "_So this is what it feels like for the others huh? Geeze, this is a pain... at least it gets better after a few hours._"

Claude may be tired, but to be honest it's a pleasant sort of tired. It's a comfortable drowsiness that is really inviting Claude to just go back to sleep... not that it reduces his panic all that much, unfortunately.

"_No, no, gotta stay awake_." Claude fumbles his way through a change of clothes and grabs his school supplies. "_What time-? Sunup? I have time to visit Hilda before class then._"

He staggers out of his room. Thankfully the hall is empty, so he can lurch his way to Hilda's room without anyone noticing him and thinking he's drunk. He knocks, and it takes a minute for a tired, annoyed Hilda to answer. Her hair is pulled into a quick ponytail instead of her usual pigtails, and she doesn't have any makeup on. "Whaaaat? It's early Claude..."

"Got blackout, can't remember." Claude says in a rush. "Memory gone, last night. Like Ignatz."

Hilda blinks. "Ah." She opens her door. "Come in then, I guess."

Claude does so, and quickly sits down in her chair while Hilda lets her hair down and rubs sleep from her eyes. Claude takes a moment to try and gather his frantic thoughts through his sleepy brain. "I... Hilda, what was I doing last night?"

The girl shrugs. "I dunno, you didn't tell me. You just said you were going to be 'figuring something out'."

"Shit, okay..." Claude mutters, putting his head in his hands. "Oooookay..."

"Hey, you're fine." Hilda murmurs, picking up on some of his distress. "It's not dangerous, remember? Ignatz has always been fine after it."

"Right, right..." Claude forces out a breath. "Okay..."

"Why do you have your bag?"

"Class."

"Claude, it's Saturday."

"Oh." Claude blinks. He leans back in the chair and lets his bag drop to the floor. "Oh..."

"You're really out of it, aren't you?"

"If I didn't feel so tired, I'd probably be panicking." Claude admits outright. "Actually, scratch that, I think I'm still panicking."

"This seems like a small thing to panic about." Hilda notes. "Considering what else you've dealt with before."

"Does it? Haa..." Claude breathes out deeply, trying to force himself to relax. "I guess it is." And logically, Hilda is right. They've already established that the victim of the blackout isn't in any real danger, but now Claude can see why the victims are always so freaked out about it. Outright losing a part of your memory like that, even a small part, is terrifying. Especially when you know it's not because of being drunk but because of some unknown predator... probably.

On one hand this is scary, on the other hand...

"This is kinda cool in a roundabout sort of way."

"That sounds more like you." Hilda snorts.

"Hey, am I not allowed to be in distress?" Claude pouts. "You're terrible at comfort Hilda!"

"Am I?" She says with a lazy smirk as she reclines in her bed. "What did you expect me to do?"

"I don't know. Words of reassurance, a hug, buy me lunch, _not_ indifference?" Claude suggests. He's starting to feel a bit better as he settles back into their usual over-dramatic banter. "Hilda! I am your number one, you best bud, and yet you forsake me in my time of need?!"

"You're _always_ in a time of need." She snorts, and sits up. Her hair, tangled and messy, falls across her face like a pink waterfall. "Are we forgetting how I came with you down that weird tunnel, or how I help you dig up information on people, or how I let you lie on me all day when you were tired and let you copy my notes, or how I stayed around you when you were sick?"

"_Oh, uh..._" Claude winces. "_Maybe I do ask a bit too much from her._"

He's always known that he leans on Hilda quite a bit for help, but he never really considered how much she does for him on a daily basis.

"Oh don't look so self-disgusted." Hilda snorts again. She stretches and stands up from the bed. "It really doesn't suit you."

"Really?" Claude forces a grin. "You say that like you're not tired of dealing me with on a daily basis."

"If I was, I would have stopped putting up with you months ago." The girl replies bluntly. She's now standing directly in front of him.

"Oh come on, you're a lot more tolerant than you pretend to be." Claude laughs weakly. "Don't try and tell me that-"

He's abruptly cut off by Hilda wrapping her hands around his head and back and pulling him into a tight hug. "Geeze, you're more rattled than I thought you'd be." She murmurs softly. Her eyes gaze down at him with something Claude suspects is either pity or concern. "Your hands are still shaking."

Claude hadn't noticed that. Now that she points it out, he can indeed feel his hands shaking as his fingers tightly grip the arms of the chair he's sitting in. "Huh, I didn't realize that. This shouldn't be scary for me, I've dealt with far more dangerous things before. I know logically this isn't something to worry about." He mumbles.

"But you're still nervous." Hilda states it as a fact, not a question.

"I guess I am." Claude sighs. "I really shouldn't be though. It's annoying."

"Hmm..." Hilda hums in understanding. She rubs the back of his head reassuringly. Claude flushes in embarrassment. That's the sort of thing one would do to comfort a child. It _does_ feel nice though.

It's been years since anyone has reassured Claude like this... or since he's gotten a hug at all. Only half thinking through what he's doing, Claude reaches up and reciprocates the hug by wrapping his arms around Hilda's waist as tightly as he can. Hilda pats him on the back and continues to speak in a murmur.

"You going to be alright?"

"Yes." He mumbles in return. "Just being selfish now."

"Oh?"

"Been a while since I've gotten a hug. Feels nice." Well, except the small, paranoid part of his brain yelling at him that he should absolutely _not_ be allowing the girl who can crush concrete with her bare hands any grasp of his body whatsoever, but he's ignoring that part of his brain right now.

He's half expecting Hilda to laugh at such a childish admission. Instead, she kneels on the chair with her legs around his hips and pulls his body even more tightly against hers. "Like this?"

"Yeah." Claude's face is now firmly mashed into her breasts, which muffles his voice a bit. Another small part of him is cheering at such contact, and he suppresses that part with just as much violence as he does his paranoia. "Thanks, and sorry."

"Sorry? For being worried and wanting reassurance?" Hilda scoffs. "You're an idiot Claude."

That's the first time she's called him an idiot for something other than presenting a scheme to her. He'll consider that a victory... after he can get his heart rate down.

Claude absently thinks to himself about how he doesn't deserve Hilda. She's smart, powerful, and very tolerant of his bullshit (and she's attractive, but that's just a pleasant extra). How many other people would actually do this for a friend? He can't think of many.

When he finally relaxes a bit bit, Hilda raises an eyebrow. "Better?"

"Yeah." He nods weakly. "Thanks Hilda."

"No problem." She murmurs. "You want to stay?"

Claude doesn't audibly respond. His answer comes by way of a renewed grip around her waist. A laugh bubbles out of Hilda's throat. Not a mocking one. One that's amused and affectionate.

Claude is still feeling sleepy as a side-effect of the... attack? Is that what they're calling it? Whatever. The attack. Point is, he feels tired, and Hilda must notice, because at some point she plucks him out of the chair and moves both of them to the bed.

He falls asleep at some point, still clinging to Hilda as he does so.

###

Claude wakes up with a similar level of panic as to what he had last time after realizing he had a blank in his memory. He can't move one arm, there's a weight pressing against him, and his vision is obscured by a cloth of some sort. His free hand scrambles for the dagger he keeps under his pillow only to find nothing. That's bad, he needs to-

He hears a yawn, and the weight on him shifts. A leg curls around his waist and a strong pair of arms pull him against the other form more firmly.

"_Right, it's Hilda._" Claude reminds himself, and relaxes the tension in his body. "_False alarm._"

It's a weird feeling to wake up with someone else. Not bad, just... weird. And it would definitely take some getting used to. Claude is glad there wasn't a dagger under the pillow. Not that he would have used it without verifying he was actually in danger, but... still better he doesn't have a weapon on hand.

Claude doesn't know how long he slept for, but the exhaustion that was the after-effect of the attack seems to have mostly worn off. It must be getting close to noon.

"_I hope I didn't make any plans last night that I forgot._" Claude thinks absently. "_I also hope no one peered in through the window while we were sleeping, or there's going to be some juicy gossip flying around._"

Then again, half the student population already thinks he and Hilda are dating, so a rumor that they've slept together won't be that much of a change. Seteth might hunt them down for it though, and what is Claude supposed to tell him? "Sorry, I was having a mild panic attack and the solution was to crawl into bed with her. I promise nothing happened though!"

Yeah, that'll go over well.

Now that he's calmed himself down, Claude feels a lot better and starts to logically process what happened. The last thing he remember last night was going to dinner with Hilda. He remembers wanting to talk to her about plans to excavate that tunnel, as well as... something else he can't remember. He thinks he finalized the plans for the tunnel, but he can't remember for the life of him if he made plans for the other thing.

"_Hilda doesn't remember me talking about any other plans_." He reminds himself. "_Maybe I was subtly figuring out her opinion on something without telling her outright?_"

He doesn't tell Hilda all his movements after all. Though after last night he's seriously considering it; if just to have someone who has an idea what he was doing if he goes missing.

What's weirder is that he can remember musing over plans for the tunnel all day, but his plans for the other thing are all blurry. It's like specific memories were targeted, along with a blanket memory wipe on the time just after dinner.

He'll have to ask Hilda when she wakes up.

Claude remembers the other side-effect of being a victim of this particular attack. A general feeling of contentment and positivity is pooling in his stomach like he just ate a nice warm meal. It's a nice contrast to the disoriented panic he was dealing with not... uh... how many hours ago?

How long has he been asleep for? How can Hilda stand to sleep for-?

"_Stupid question_." Claude reminds himself. "_That's kinda what her species is known for: supreme power, but also extreme egos and extreme laziness_."

That's just the stereotype though. From what Claude can tell, the 'extreme egos' thing was cultural and a result of upbringing, and isn't as much a thing as it used to be. The reluctance to use their power stems from the fact that it takes a lot of energy. That's actually part of why Hilda is so "lazy". It genuinely takes a lot of effort for her to pull off her insane feats of strength, and between eating a lot and resting a lot to regain energy Hilda prefers the latter.

"Because it doesn't make me look like a pig, or Raphael." She had explained in a huff.

Not that she doesn't eat more than most people, just not as much as she _could _if she decided she didn't need to sleep so much.

Claude experimentally tries to twist his head so he can see a window or something, but all he gets is a view of either the pillow or the ceiling. He's going to have to wiggle out of her grasp if he wants to check the time.

"_Or I could just wake her up_." He muses. "_Or just do nothing. This isn't so unpleasant_._ I don't think I had a plan for today. Not an official one at least_. _Hmm... maybe I should take Hilda out shopping again or something. How many favors do I owe her by this point? Maybe I should just sell my soul to her and call it even_."

Hilda wakes up about half an hour later, and gleefully accepts Claude's offer of a shopping day. Despite his offer to pay for all of it, she only has him pay for a few inconsequential things while purchasing the bulk of her prizes herself. She wants him along more for company than anything else.

Claude tries not to think of Holst's potential reaction should he ever learn about that morning.

###

"Claude, I need your help with something."

"Sure, shoot." Claude says instantly. He owes Hilda too many favors to say anything else. "What do you need?"

"Do you know where to get some blackleaf?"

Claude's drama senses immediately perk up, as do his ears. "Blackleaf? Sure. But... why would _you_ need blackleaf Hilda? Is there something you're not telling me about? Or some_one_?"

She makes a face. "Ha ha, no. My brother and parents wants some to try and make some tea they've heard of that needs it as an ingredient. Blackleaf doesn't grow naturally in Goneril territory."

"They can't get any from merchants?"

"The only merchants that sell blackleaf in our territory tend to be Almyran, or have a reputation of being untrustworthy, so my family won't purchase from them for obvious reasons." Her flat, unimpressed expression tells him exactly what she thinks of that. "So they send me a letter going 'oh, Hilda, be a dear and find us a crate-load of _high quality_ blackleaf, will you?'. Yeah, like I'm going to know a 'high quality' leaf from a normal one."

Claude shakes his head. "Do they even know what blackleaf is? It's super bitter, and doesn't make for great tea most of the time. The point of the tea isn't the taste, it's the _other_ thing it's known for. Besides, it has medicinal properties, are you sure they don't have any on hand already? It's not _that_ uncommon."

Hilda throws up her hands. "Hell if I know! They asked me for some, that's all I know about it! Maybe it's just an excuse to get me to send them something so they can give me some inane gift in return as 'thanks'. I know Holst would send me things all the time if I hadn't explicitly told him not to."

"Oh no, a gift, how horrible."

"You say that, but do _you_ want a bunch of tacky hair accessories from someone who has no idea how fashion works? No thanks." Hilda complains. "The last one Holst sent me was this gaudy bejewelled orange hairpin. _Orange_ Claude. I have a color scheme here!"

"Fine, fine." Claude chuckles with a role of his eyes. "Blackleaf huh? I bet we can ask Anna for some. She sells everything."

"We're supposed to find a _trustworthy_ source."

"How rude! You'd break her rich, gold-plated heart if she heard you."

"Yeah, then she's make a big show of how offended she is for me doubting her, and immediately offer me a deal as soon as I apologize." Hilda grumbles. "No Annas."

"Fine, make the job harder why don't you?" Claude chuckles. "I'm sure we can find someone without much effort. This is a school full of horny teenagers, it'd be a massive lost business opportunity not to sell blackleaf here."

"Excuse you, I'm eighteen. _You're_ a teenager." Hilda reminds him. She sticks out her tongue. "Respect your elders."

"Fine, horny teenagers _and_ young adults. Happy, _Miss_?" Claude mocks.

"Don't give me attitude, _kid_." Hilda shoots back.

###

Claude flips through his notebook. He carefully scrutinizes the entries from the last few days. Lots of stuff about the tunnel, a few questions to ask Hanneman... and a lot of frantic scribbling about the attacks.

_There's a pattern, happens once a week, always Friday or Saturday night. Ignatz, then someone else, then Ignatz again. It's consistent. Someone is targeting Ignatz, but only every other week so it's not obvious._

_Last week it was Lorenz. This week should be Ignatz again. Take advantage._

_Read up on feeding species. Vampires are biweekly, so too infrequent (unless there are other attacks we don't know about). Some types of poltergeist leech soul energy from people, but tend to not be very subtle, don't usually deal in coordinated blackouts, and their attacks don't have positive after-effects._

_Kitsune (of the magical, non beast stone kind. Apparently the beast stone kind are technically just fox taguel who mistakenly got called kitsune because they look similar in human form and the term stuck), are known to sometimes attack people for soul energy too, and certainly have the magical capabilities to both disguise their presence and deal in memory-altering spells._

_Seems inefficient to go after Ignatz though, and to attack so infrequently. I have a hunch these attacks are out of necessity, and kitsune don't have to feed on soul energy if they don't want to._

_There are a few other sorts of undead of the soul-eating variety, but again, the positive after-effects make them unlikely candidates. It's looking more and more like the last one I found: a succubus._

_That's scary. I mean, all of the possibilities are kinda scary, but succubi can be a whole new level of nasty if they feel like it. Mind control, emotion control, energy siphoning, memory manipulation... and it's all effortless for them. As long as they have physical contact, even the smallest amount, you're under their control and you just have to pray to whatever god you believe in that they don't decide it would be fun to mind-control you into slaughtering an orphanage or something (and not only that, they could make you enjoy slaughtering the orphanage because they can emotion control alongside mind control)._

_So yeah, we might have one of the scariest species alive in the monastery. Maybe see about getting an anti-charm amulet... for all the good it would do. Would have to be a damn powerful amulet to make any real difference._

While his notes don't say it outright, Claude suspects he knows what happened that night he lost some of his memories. He must have been following Ignatz, and instead of Ignatz getting attacked it was him, maybe because whoever it was noticed he was following and decided to pick on him this time.

On one hand, he's not dead, which is a very real possibility when running into a succubus. On the other hand, now that succubus probably knows he's looking out for them, and might be even more sneaky to compensate for it.

"_Should I even try to catch her next cycle? Maybe I should bring backup..._" Claude muses. "_What backup could I possibly bring aside from Hilda though? Hilda would only be so helpful. She's no more charm immune than I am._"

What would he do if he could find out who the succubus is anyways? Get them expelled? Would that even benefit him? He's already concluded that they're probably feeding out of necessity, getting them expelled would be needlessly cruel.

"_I guess I just want to know for the sake of knowing._" Claude concludes. "_Better to know potential power players in advance. They could be a powerful ally, or a dangerous foe. I need to keep a close eye on them either way._"

You know, assuming he can figure out who it is. You think someone with charm abilities that powerful, that they can't turn off no less, would be rather noticeable.

"_Maybe they have an inhibitor?_" Claude considers. "_A spell or an enchanted pendant or-_"

He stops short as a thought crosses his mind.

"_An enchanted necklace perhaps? A weekly cycle of looking progressively more tired until she feeds on the weekend, usually on Ignatz who is both an easy target and rather nice to her on a regular basis? The same person she tends to stare at near the end of the week when she's hungry? Yeah, that would make sense_."

He writes the girl's name is large letters, so even if he loses his memory again he'll be able to look and see who it is, and stares at the name in disbelief.

"But _Marianne_ of all people?" He mutters. "What the heck am I supposed to do about that?"

* * *

**The big reveal? Well, I guess it's not that big. If you're thinking "wow, you're being awful to poor Marianne, piling on more stress when she already has a cursed crest and all", you're absolutely right. I'm a terrible person, and I love it.**

**Fun fact (or maybe just a fact, depends on how much you care), the original plan for this story had Mercedes and Marianne's quirks switched. Mercedes was originally planned to be very open about the fact that she's a succubus, and offer free cuddles as a mutually beneficial way for her to feed and for the recipient to get an all-around mood boost. I still that's an adorable idea, and I am considering making a one-shot about it at some point.**


	8. Marianne

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**Uploading two chapters at the same time, so go back and read the last one if you haven't.**

**A bit of a different chapter, totally switching perspective. I'm considering making a chapter like this for anyone with a significantly different enough quirk as a bit of a showcase of who they are. Tell me if you like it or not.**

**This chapter is about a succubus. Adjust expectations of the content matter appropriately (nothing graphic or drastic, just... be aware there are elements of non-con in this chapter).**

* * *

Marianne can't focus on her notes. Friday is always awful for getting anything done. She knows Professor Eisner is going over some new concept for small-unit tactics, and that she should probably be paying attention for the test on Wednesday, but it's difficult. She's just so hungry...

It's not the sort of hunger food can slake. Marianne would know, she's tried. No matter how much she gorges herself regular food and drink can't make up for it. She could eat and drink until she's sick (and has done so before), but it makes no difference. Once a week, every week, she needs to feed. Nothing can delay it.

For that reason, Friday and Saturday are the worst days of Marianne's week. Those are the days she has to pick a target and find a way to isolate them before attacking.

You know, like a panther... or a sexual predator, which is basically what she is.

To say she's "not happy" about what she has to do would be an understatement. She remembers the days when she was younger when she didn't have to do this. The extent of her cravings amounted to just needing frequent hugs. Simple, inoffensive hugs. She could cling to her mother or her father and the hunger would go away. Now, unfortunately, she's too old for that, and her parents are both gone.

The bell rings and snaps Marianne out of her thoughts. Everyone is packing up their things, and she hurries to do the same.

"Remember, there's a test on Wednesday." Professor Eisner says in monotone. "Marianne, please stay for a moment."

A few sidelong glances are directed her way, and Marianne cringes internally. Ignatz, ever kind, gives her a sympathetic smile of reassurance as he scuttles out of the classroom.

Marianne forces her eyes not to follow him as he leaves. She directs her attention to Professor Eisner, then the ground when he walks up to her. Her stomach curls and aches, and she swallows the saliva pooling in her mouth. "_Not now, not here._"

"You were not focused." He says flatly.

"I-I'm sorry..."

"This is not uncommon. This happens every week." Byleth says. His eyes bore into the top of her head as Marianne keeps her head bowed. "Is there an issue?"

"N-No."

"I do not believe you." He responds bluntly. "If there was truly no issue, this would not be happening. Is my class boring Marianne?"

"No..."

"Is it too easy? Too difficult?"

She shakes her head.

"Are you worried about something?"

Marianne says nothing, not wanting to admit that yes, she is. Her silence is enough of a giveaway for Byleth to realize it anyhow.

"What are you worrying about?"

"It's nothing..."

"That's a lie."

Marianne wilts in place and clasps her hands together in a silent prayer for strength. "P-Please Professor, it doesn't concern you."

"You can deal with it on your own?"

"Y-Yes."

"Then why are you distracted every week?"

"_Because I wait as long as I can between feedings._" She thinks. "_So I don't have to inflict more distress than necessary._"

She can't tell him that though. That would be a dead giveaway. She wants as few people as possible to know what a monster she is. It's not like he could help even if she did tell him anyhow. This is her curse to bear, alone.

"You can't do anything about it Professor." She murmurs instead. "I'm sorry to be such a burden."

"I refuse to accept that as an answer." He replies firmly. "Tell me."

Marianne wishes she could, but she can't. He can't help her, she won't allow it. There's only one way a person could help her with her problem, and she wouldn't wish it on anyone. She doesn't want anyone to offer themselves to be a feeder for her. The entire reason she doesn't go after Ignatz every week is because it makes him tired the next day. She doesn't want to make someone deal with that every single week, much less _more_ than a week, which is how often she _should_ be feeding if she's doing it the long way (which she is).

"I can't Professor."

"Yes, you can. You're just choosing not to."

Marianne's body droops, and her expression falls into a sad stare at the floor. Her hands come up to clutch her necklace. "Professor..."

"Yes?"

"Could you lean down for a moment?" She whispers. "I can't risk anyone else overhearing."

The man's eyes widen just a fraction, and he quickly leans down to put his ear near her.

Marianne slips the necklace off her head, places it on the desk next to her, and grabs the surprised man on either side of his face. "Sorry Professor." She whispers, and allows her innate charm magic to flow into her voice and her touch.

###

With Professor Eisner sleeping at his desk (to wake up in a few minutes with a no memory of what happened at the end of his class), Marianne shuffles off to the cathedral. It's mid afternoon, so there's no service at the moment. She missed the one just before noon because of a different class, and the next one isn't until after dinner... and she's going to be busy after dinner.

So Marianne takes the time now to pray. She kneels down in front of the statue, ignoring how the hard stone hurts her legs, and whispers prayers under her breath.

"Goddess above, who is good and kind. Creator of all, the beginning of life. Please have pity on this poor soul." She begins quietly, and closes her eyes. "Please, help me be rid of this curse of mine. Of my crest, of my form, of my hunger. Spare those I hunt from fear, for I wish them no harm. Spare them of pain, of worry, and of any other effects. Spare those who would be kind to me the misfortune my crest, and therefore my life, brings to them."

She continues on like this for half an hour, often repeating prayers when she can't think of anything new to say, but never stopping her constant stream of wishes.

"-but please," she whispers, close to finishing, "do whatever it takes to spare others from my evil. Take my crest, my species... or my life, it it would help them. Amen."

Marianne has never gotten a response from the Goddess, and she doesn't expect to. She's too cursed, to inherently evil, to be worth the Goddess's attention. She's come to accept that a long time ago. The golden rays of sunlight may shine down on her through the stain-glass windows of the cathedral, but the sun a gift to all of the _good_ people of the world, and she is merely a parasite enjoying what she doesn't deserve.

Slowly, the girl opens her eyes and stares up at one of the statues in the columns of the cathedral. Deceptions of the Goddess vary wildly, even within Garreg Mach. Some depict the Goddess as old and noble, the grandmother of all creation. Sometimes she is depicted as a strong, confident, beautiful young adult who is nonetheless wise beyond her years, but with a more playful side than her older depiction. The most rare view of her has to be the last, which is that of a girl barely as tall as Bernadetta with oversized jewellery who is petulant and haughty, though just as caring and wise as her other depictions.

Marianne doesn't put faith in one view more than the others. Who is she to say she knows of the Goddess's true nature? The statue in the cathedral is of the young adult version of the Goddess however, so Marianne supposes that must be what the church wants people to put the most faith into. Far be it it for her to judge their actions; after all, she is a lowly parasite who feeds on others, and the church does the glorious work of keeping the faith.

"You seem to have a lot to say to the Goddess." A soft voice whispers from beside her. Marianne blinks to awareness and looks at the girl next to her. The best way Marianne could describe is her is 'soft'. Soft features, voluminous hair, gentle eyes, and a kindly smile. Her nearly monochrome peach-cream color scheme, including skin and the color of her clothes, adds to her aura of gentleness.

"N-Not too much." Marianne mumbles. "J-Just some selfish requests."

"The Goddess hears those too." Mercedes smiles. She kneels down next to Marianne, not seeming to care about the hard stone. In fact, she doesn't seem to notice it at all. "I always wish for my next cake to turn out well, and people always like them, so the Goddess _must_ be listening!"

Marianne wishes she could have the Goddess's favor like Mercedes, but she's never had any hint of the Goddess answering _her_ requests. She must truly be damned. "That's nice."

"Isn't it? I'm making another today for Ashe. He's been feeling a bit down after Lonato."

"Yes." Marianne nods. She remembers hearing about that. She actually ran into him a few times at the cathedral in the nights after the Lion's return to the monastery. Ashe was staying up very late, sometimes praying, sometimes staring silently at the floor. Marianne eventually decided her powers could be of some use and would charm him to sleep and carry him back to his room. Her powers even allow her to give pleasant dreams and ward off nightmares, so she'd do that for him too. Not that she can tell anyone, that would raise too many questions.

"So I'm thinking chocolate!" Mercedes says cheerfully. "Because everyone likes chocolate!"

The faintest whisper of a smile crosses Marianne's face. "I hope he likes it..."

"Me too! Do you want to help make it?"

"I-I don't know baking..."

"That's fine! Petra is helping, and she doesn't know how to bake either." Mercedes giggles.

"I couldn't possibly." Marianne shakes her head. "I would only get in the way. Please, do it without me."

"Really, it would be no trouble at all. I love teaching!"

Marianne's fragile willpower crumbles. "O-Okay then..."

"Great! Come by the kitchens after dinner."

Oh no. That's going to get in the way of feeding. "Okay." She murmurs despite that. "I-I will."

###

Marianne is quietly panicking. There's no way she can bake in her current condition, and the baking is going to be exactly during the time she would be hunting down someone to feed from. She either has to put off her feeding longer, which will make baking a disaster and make it hard to find someone to feed from in the first place as most people will be asleep or at least in their rooms, or she can feed _beforehand_, which means the person she targets is going to be missing dinner because she can't let them wander around after she's taken her fill because they'll be blatantly charmed and people will ask questions, even if she does a controlled memory wipe.

Is there someone who usually skips dinner? Maybe she can go after them? That's still going to end up with her leaving either someone asleep or someone looking like they're drugged after she's fed though. This is why she feeds after dinner, so she can put her victim straight to bed and no one will be the wiser.

"_Maybe I can find Linhardt?_" She asks herself as she strides quickly around the monastery. "_No one would question him being asleep._"

Then again, Caspar tends to come and find Linhardt to wake him up for meals, so that wouldn't end well if the green-haired boy was obviously charmed.

After walking around the monastery a good three times, Marianne resigns herself to not feeding until later. Baking is going to be awful, but she doesn't have a choice.

###

The Goddess is punishing her. That has to be it. She's punishing her for being a horrible parasite to the rest of her beautiful children by dangling her preferred meal in front of her face without letting her have him.

"Just- if you need any help with it, I'm not an expert, but I'm sure we could study together!" Ignatz offers. He's wearing a nervous smile and clutching his plate of food. "You looked really stressed today in class, so I thought you might be having trouble. Uh, if you _really_ need help you can ask the Professor you know, he's really nice even if he's a bit... weird. Or you could ask Claude! Claude's really good at tactics! It doesn't have to be me!"

Marianne isn't great at tactics, but she's not awful either. The problem isn't tactics at all, she's just so _hungry_, but she can't say that. She can't ever admit that. She'll get kicked out of the monastery or killed if she's found out, and even if she deserves it that doesn't mean she wants it.

"_I'm so selfish..._" She thinks miserably as she tries to smile at Ignatz, just to show she's thankful for the offer. She'd love to accept, even if she really has no need of it, just to spend time with him. He's too nice to her all the time despite her repeatedly targeting him. "I'm helping Mercedes and the others bake after dinner. Sorry."

"That's uh... I have time tomorrow, if you want!" Ignatz offers, looking even more nervous. "Only if you want..."

Something in Marianne's chest squeezes painfully. "That... would be nice."

"So yes?"

"Yes..."

"Great!" His eyes light up. "I-I'll see you tomorrow then! Is after breakfast good?"

"Sure."

Ignatz leaves, looking excited, and Marianne buries her face in her hands. She's a horrible, selfish person for taking advantage of his kindness.

###

Baking, as Marianne predicted, is a disaster. Though it's not entirely her fault. After all, Petra is the one who mixed the batter so violently it flew out of the bowl.

Mercedes has a saintly amount of patience for everyone's failures. No matter how many times Petra messes something up from being over-eager, or Marianne gets distracted and drops or burns something, or Annette accidentally sets... _everything_ on fire, she calmly corrects their mistakes and encourages them to try again.

Somehow Mercedes is the only clean one at the end of the baking session, despite all the flour and batter that got tossed around by accident. She even got splattered a few times, but she would calmly wipe away the offending substance it would all come off cleanly, despite the fact that when it happens to anyone else it rather obviously stains their clothing.

Does Mercedes have stain-resistant clothing or something? Perhaps it's a spell? Then why doesn't Annette have it too?

That question aside, the baking session ends with one simple chocolate cake, a dozen cookies, and a single blueberry muffin that survived Annette's attempts to make a full batch. Marianne doesn't even want to consider how inefficient they were with their ingredients, and she's sure Mercedes is aware of _exactly_ how much they wasted but isn't commenting on it out of politeness.

"Delightful!" Mercedes claps. "They all look very tasty! Good job everyone!"

"We did it!" Annette cheers.

"We have gotten the victory!" Petra agrees. "Our floury foe has been bested!"

"Was that a pun Petra?" Annette giggles.

"Indeed! I have done practice on them. Was it successful?"

"It was very good Petra." Mercedes smiles. "Now, let's clean up this mess and give everything to Ashe!"

Cleaning up takes longer than Marianne cares to admit. They really made a mess of the kitchen. Getting all the flour out of the nooks and crannies takes the longest time. Mercedes, strangely enough, doesn't seem to have a problem with forgoing her cloth and just sticking her hands into small places to scrape out the flour. Somehow she never seems to injure herself, and just like with her clothes she has no problem cleaning off her fingers without leaving the smallest trace of dirt.

That's unusual, but Marianne really doesn't care to find out how that works. She's distracted by her hunger. Mercedes and the others try to convince her to come along and give the sweets to Ashe, but Marianne refuses. It's not just because of her hunger either, there's a more practical reason. Mercedes, Annette, and Petra all have a connection to the boy while she is just some random other person in the academy to him. Best to let the people who know him go and provide comfort, she was just glad to be able to help.

Now comes what has been distracting her all day. It's time to feed. Unfortunately, it's also getting a bit late, so her selection of people is limited. She moves to the cathedral first, though it's more just to see if Ashe is camped out there again (which he's not). She offers a quick prayer to the Goddess, bows to Seteth when he walks by, and leaves.

Marianne wanders around the edge of the monastery, finding all the out-of-the-way places where she's conducted feedings before and hoping to find someone alone there to grab. Unfortunately, all she finds is Claude (whom she avoids, considering what happened last week), Hanneman (whom she can't feed on because he's a ghost), and Hubert (who is just plain scary).

After that string of fantastic failures, Marianne considers putting it off for another day. She could probably manage, but she's desperate already. She doesn't want to wait a whole day before getting another chance to feed.

Marianne decides to do something she only does as a last resort: knocking on someone's door. She actively avoids things like this for the most part. There's a higher chance of being seen, or someone hearing the knock, and she has to be fairly sure her target won't get _other_ visitors who might mess up her plan. Still, she's desperate at this point.

So she raises a trembling hand and knocks on the door. She does it quietly, praying that the person in question will hear and that no one else will. Luck is on her side for once, and the door is pulled open just a crack.

"Marianne?" Ignatz whispers, and squints at her. He turns away suddenly, and she can hear shuffling, then he returns with his glasses on so he doesn't have to squint. "You're here late... uh, are you alright? You look... bad. I mean, you look nice as always! But you look really really pale too."

Marianne is fairly sure that's a contradiction, but she's only half paying attention. "I'm fine... can I come in?"

"Uh... uh... come _in? _G-Give me a second!" He yelps. The surprise and panic in his voice is obvious. It will only occur to Marianne the next morning, when her mind is clearer, that he's panicking because a girl just asked to come into his room rather late at night, which has all sorts of implications.

About a minute later the door opens enough to allow her to step inside. Marianne can see that a bunch of sheets look like they've been hastily thrown over various easels and paintings to hide them, and that Ignatz looks like he's quickly put on one of his school uniforms. There's a tray of paints and brushes still out, indicating he may have been painting just a moment ago.

"_He must have been about to go to bed too._" Marianne realizes sheepishly, noting the pyjamas thrown into the corner of the room and out of the way. "_Oops._"

"S-So..." Ignatz stutters. He takes a deep breath, and speaks in a more even tone. "Are you alright Marianne? Did you need something from me?"

"Yes." Marianne nods. "I need your help with something."

"It can't wait? I-I mean I don't mind of course!" He says in a rush, desperate to not cause a misunderstanding. "It's just that... it's late you know? Is it that urgent? Should we get the guards, or maybe Manuela? Are you sick?"

She shakes her head, trying to dispel his worry. "Nothing like that, I swear. Besides, I need _your_ help."

"Me, specifically?" Ignatz squeaks.

"Yes." Marianne nods. "You, specifically."

"I, uh, wow." He murmurs to himself. He then sits up straighter, trying to look confident (for her sake, Marianne realizes, and she instantly feels worse than she did already). "What do you need? What skills? I'm a merchant, a novice painter... it's not much, but if I can help-"

"Is that a painting of me?" Marianne interrupts, pointing behind him. It's the oldest trick in the book, but it helps that Marianne knows he _does_ actually have a painting of her, she saw it when putting him in his bed from a prior feeding about a month ago. She's of the opinion that the painting exaggerates her beauty. After all, she wears eye shadow all the time specifically to _avoid_ looking attractive. She's trying to look tired and ugly. Still, she's flattered that he made one of her.

Ignatz's eyes widen in horror and he instantly spins around to try and hide the painting he thinks he left visible. Marianne takes this opportunity to remove her necklace and place it on the desk. Realistically she could have done that in front of him, but she never feels comfortable doing it in plain view of someone (she can't easily distract the Professor, so she had to do it in plain view when dealing with him). It's a stupid, silly hangup considering he's not going to remember this in two hours, but she still feels the need to do it.

"Marianne...!" Ignatz says after a few seconds. "That's mean! I-I swear I _don't_ have a painting of you, a-and if I did at some point I can get rid of it if you're uncomfortable!" At this point he turns back around. "Why did you... uh..." The boy swallows thickly, and his hands clasp together tightly. His eyes glance frantically around the room, but are drawn, almost forcibly, back to her. "S-Sorry, what was it you n-needed again?" He stammers.

Marianne _hates_ this sort of reaction. She doesn't hate Ignatz for it, she hates that she can prompt it. Her passive charm power is so stupidly strong it can dumbfound someone who so much as glances at her. This is why she keeps her necklace on, it's a potent inhibitor gem that makes other people capable of at least _functioning_ when she's around. If she didn't, she might as well be a walking catastrophe. If she sat in the classroom without her gem, it's unlikely anyone would get any work done, even the teacher. Her mother's passive power wasn't this strong, though it would certainly turn heads. She suspects, as does Hanneman (one of the few people who knows about her being what she is), that her crest is amplifying her charm powers exponentially. Succubi already have the most powerful charms of any known species, so you can imagine how devastating such power is.

She's basically blasting Ignatz in the face with that power right now, and that's just the passive effect. She could make it _more_ potent if she put in actual effort, but that would be overkill to the highest degree.

"Ignatz." She whispers softly. She hates how her voice has changed. Her regular voice is still there, but it's warped into something softer and more inviting. The boy is outright trembling, and Marianne just feels awful. "It's okay."

"Wh-Wha-?"

"Calm down." She instructs. "Sit down too."

The effect is instant. Ignatz sits down on the bed so quickly she's worried he's going to hurt himself. His eyes are locked on hers. She can't decide if he's terrified or transfixed. Probably both.

"You're going to be fine." She reassures, and she holds her hands up in a calming gesture while maintaining eye contact. "Just try to relax, okay?"

"Y-Yes..." He stammers. He takes deep, shaky breaths, clearly failing to calm down at all. Marianne reaches forward and delicately removes his glasses so they don't get damaged, and places them on the side table. "Wh-Wh-What's going... you are...?"

"I'm still Marianne." She murmurs. "This is still me. I just took off my necklace, that's all."

"Th-_That's_ what the necklace does?" Ignatz asks in a raspy, hoarse voice.

"Yes." This isn't the first time she's had a conversation about the necklace with him. It actually happens almost every time she feeds on him. "You're going to be okay." She repeats, though at this point it's half to reassure herself. "I promise."

"Wh-Why do you keep saying that? Wh-What's going to happen?"

"I need to feed." She says. The word "feed" feels like bile in her mouth. They're finally getting to the point of this whole visit. Though at this point Marianne might call it an invasion, as Ignatz never really had a choice in the matter.

"Feed? Are you a vampire?" The boy asks.

She mutely shakes her head. Honestly, being a vampire would be preferable to this. "Succubus." Because a succubi's feeding is basically sexual assault, and that's if you're doing it the long way. The short way would be... erm... _worse_. You know, what you _usually_ think of when succubi come to mind. Of course the short way is more efficient and would mean she only has to feed once a month, but it's still infinitely less preferable because of the act that would need to take place.

"Oh." Ignatz blinks. Then his eyes widen and any calm he might have obtained goes right out the window. "Oh Goddess..."

There it is. The moment someone realizes what she is, what that entails, and what a monster it makes her. Marianne doesn't know why she bothers having these conversations with her victims. She could just have grabbed him when his back was turned and started feeding, her charm power would take effect when she made physical contact and he wouldn't be able to resist. Maybe it's because she thinks she deserves it. She deserves to have the person stare at her in horror and remind herself why what she's doing and what she is is so reprehensible.

"I'm sorry." Marianne whispers. It's stupid, on some level she wants the condemnation from her victims of knowing they think she's a monster, because she deserves the hatred, but she can never stand to hear them _say_ it and she always cuts them off. It's so much more visceral and painful to _hear_ them call her a monster rather than see it in their eyes, or worse, to hear them _not_ call her a monster because they're too full of charm magic to think rationally.

So, before Ignatz can say anything more, she grabs his head and pulls him into a kiss. He suddenly goes stiff, probably in some form of shock from the action itself and the effect of her charm suddenly multiplying tenfold due to actual physical contact.

After the shock (mostly) wears off, Ignatz can't seem to decide what he wants to do with his hands. One hand weakly grabs the front of her shirt while the other ineffectually pushes her shoulder. Ignatz isn't exactly weak, bows take some strength to draw, but he may as well be a kitten for all the force he can muster at this moment. He's trembling like a kitten too, which might be cute if it wasn't because she was forcing herself on him.

Marianne closes her eyes as her initial rush of emotion washes over her. Disgust, self-loathing, disappointment... pleasure, excitement, and enjoyment.

For all Marianne hates feeding, it feels _wonderful_, and that makes it so much worse. She knows it's a natural reaction just the same as when someone eats food, and by that metaphor Ignatz would be her favourite food, but she feels awful about indulging in her favourite food so often.

With her initial reaction out of the way, Marianne properly takes charge. She pushes magic into Ignatz, forcing his muscles to relax until he's limp, and she dazes his mind with pleasure so he doesn't panic. Just because he won't remember this doesn't give her an excuse to be callous. It would be even more awful of her if she were to feed while he was frozen but panicked the entire time. The least she can do is calm him down, even if it's by using magic.

She cradles his head with one hand, supporting his neck, while she holds up the rest of his body with the other. She lowers him down to the bed and releases him, and he limply sprawls out over the sheets.

It's been ten seconds. Ignatz has gone from nervously chatty to little more than a drugged-up shell of a person. He might as well be a doll for how capable he is of doing anything of his own will right now.

Marianne's stomach turns unpleasantly at that thought. "I need to just get this over with."

Unfortunately, "getting this over with" takes a full hour. It's called "the long way" for a reason. The short way can take all of a minute, it's devastatingly effective, and the long way is slow and inefficient by comparison. She has to keep her mouth plastered to his for a full hour to get enough energy to function for the rest of the week. That's because the slow way isn't supposed to be used by adults at all. It's what _children_ do to siphon energy, because they need a lot less of it from feeding.

Marianne changes her position to something more comfortable, takes a deep, steadying breath, and does what she has to do.

###

She hates how content she feels, how full she feels, and how pleasant it was. Marianne wants divine punishment, a bolt of lighting from the sky, agonizing pain, _something_... but nothing happens. The goddess allows her to get away with another despicable act of predation.

Ignatz looks like he's drugged to high heaven. His eyes are unfocused, loosely trying to follow her movements. He can occasionally muster a twitch of a finger or an incomprehensible noise in the back of his throat, but that's the extent of his self-agency at the moment.

Marianne mutely pulls the covers up over the boy, making sure he's properly tucked in. She presses her lips to his forehead and uses a sleep spell to do what the name implies. Then she begins the memory alteration spell. Memory alteration can be a bit of a delicate operation, and Marianne isn't all that skilled at it. That's another reason she feeds after dinner, so she can just do a blanket memory wipe on everything after they've eaten. Her victim never loses any memories of class or important assignments (and even if they spent the afternoon studying they have at least one or two more days of the weekend to gain back any knowledge she might accidentally erase).

With Ignatz asleep and tucked in, you'd never realize he spent the last hour acting as little more than a living doll for her to nibble on.

Well, more than just nibble on, but Marianne is trying to remember as little (it was so nice to have someone to cuddle...) of the experience (warm, intimate...) as possible (he was so cute, so tasty...).

"No!" She whispers harshly to herself, and smacks her own cheeks so that her face stings. "Stop!"

If only it were that simple.

###

She remembers that she's meeting Ignatz after breakfast approximately ten minutes _after_ she should have gone to find him. She eventually locates him sitting on the stairs near her room, probably waiting for her.

His head is leaning against the wall and his glasses are crooked. He seems to be asleep. Marianne feels responsible for that, because she _is_ responsible for it. Part of the after-effect of a feeding is exhaustion. She debates whether she should wake him up or just let him sleep, but eventually decides that it can't be comfortable to lean against a stone wall and gently shakes him awake. "Ignatz?"

"Uhh..." The boy squints and sits up. He notices her and startles to his feet. Considering he's on stairs, he almost falls over and down them, and Marianne has to catch him. "O-Oh, Marianne! Sorry, I didn't mean to doze off!"

"It's fine..."

"Thanks. I've been really tired all morning. I seem to get these sleepy spells at random." The boy smiles nervously. "I think I might have a condition... But at least I always feel great in the afternoon! I plan on taking advantage of it to really get some painting done!"

"That's nice." Marianne nods meekly. Her heart twists and burns. "I hope they turn out well."

"I do too! Oh, but first, we need to study, right? We can start by going over what Professor Eisner did last class!" Ignatz offers with surprising eagerness. "Shall we go to the library?"

"Sure..."

Marianne stares at him the entire walk there. Not because she's hungry, but because she's relieved he doesn't remember anything. She's always worried one of her victims will recall something and either hate or expose her, even if she deserves it. Ignatz thankfully doesn't seem to remember anything though, and has suffered no more ill effects than usual.

Good... now she doesn't have to worry about feeding again until Friday.

* * *

**A different chapter with an entirely different POV. A bit darker than the others. Back to normal next chapter. Also, if you thought I was going to shy away from detailing how a species works just because it potentially contains some uncomfortable implications, you are dead wrong.**


	9. Information Gathering and Paranoia

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners. **

**Back to our regularly scheduled Claude (and Hilda). Claude is a tiny bit paranoid, in case you haven't picked up on it yet.**

* * *

"Huh." Hilda muses when Claude explains his theory. She has a frown on her face. "Marianne, really? I mean, I guess it makes sense based on her behaviour... but didn't you say succubi are supposed to feed every _month_ at minimum, not every week?"

"That's the only catch I can't quite figure out." Claude admits. "I can't find any species that only needs to feed once a week. Vampires need to feed biweekly, undead generally don't have a strict timeframe and just do it whenever, kitsune don't have to do it period. Succubi are the only thing that make sense, but I don't know why it's weekly rather than monthly."

He pats a few books next to him.

"It doesn't help that the library has very little detailed information on succubi specifically. I can find detailed information on vampires and whatnot, but not succubi."

"Maybe it's the whole 'sex demon' thing." Hilda shrugs. "This is a church after all. Anything lewd, even if it's integral to understanding a species, is going to get pulled from the shelves."

"Yeah..." Claude frowns. "I've been talking to Anna to see if I she knows of a book or two I could get, but it'll take some time for her to consult her sisters and find something. It will probably be months before I get something."

"So what do we do in the meantime? Are we confronting Marianne?" Hilda frowns. "That doesn't sound like it would end well. You probably already did that once and got memory-wiped for it."

"Do we know anyone who's charm-immune?" Claude asks.

"Professor Hanneman?" Hilda suggests. "Are ghosts charm-immune?"

"I think so."

"But are we really going to ask _him_ to talk to Marianne?" Hilda grimaces. "He'd probably be more interested in studying her than helping, and it would mean revealing Marianne's secret."

"Give Hanneman a _bit_ of credit, he's enthusiastic about his work, not indifferent to his students." Claude huffs. "But you're right, he probably wouldn't be the best choice."

"I don't suppose you've made friends with any other ghosts during your nightly creeping?"

"Nope."

"Geeze... what other species are immune to charm?"

"Uh... incorporeal undead, mindless undead-"

"Nope and nope."

"-constructs usually,-"

"Also nope."

"-and other succubi and charm-using species like Kitsune, Sirens, and Nymphs."

"Do we know any of those?"

"Maybe?" Claude shrugs helplessly. "But I don't know _who_ that would be aside from Marianne herself."

"Well shit."

"Yeah. So, if you spontaneously develop charm-immunity at some point, tell me, won't you?"

"Duly noted." She says dryly. "Because we old bloods are _totally_ known for developing random abilities. We're regular chimeras."

"I'm just saying..."

The two of them fall quiet. Claude flips through page upon page of mildly-interesting but not very useful research notes and biology textbooks while Hilda nibbles on a cupcake. Claude shakes his head, closes another book, and glances out the window. It's midday, not to mention a full week since he got attacked, and Ignatz just got attacked again yesterday too. Even if he could find a way to confront Marianne without being immediately overwhelmed by her charm powers, what good would it do him? It's not like he can ask her to _stop_ feeding, she'd just starve to death. She has no choice but to feed.

This would be a trivial problem if there was someone _willing_ to be fed on that Marianne trusted. Someone she didn't feel she had to erase the memory of to erase the trauma of feeding (Claude is assuming this of course, he doesn't know Marianne's reasons for memory-wiping. He's making a guess). Like, sure Sylvain would be okay with it... but that's because he's a pervert, and Marianne would absolutely _not_ be fine with having him remember her feeding on him.

Hmm... "Marianne needs a boyfriend."

Hilda gives him a long, hard look. "I hope you have a good reason for saying that, because if you're implying she needs a boyfriend for mental stability-"

"Well kinda? But in a practical sense." Claude frowns. "I mean, if she had a trusted partner, the need to memory-wipe would go away, wouldn't it? And it's not like feeding is _dangerous_ unless she wants to injure her target, right?"

"Ahhh..." Hilda nods. "Okay, that makes sense. Small problem though."

"Hmm?"

"It's not like we can _force_ a relationship to happen. Nor would I want to if I'm being honest."

"Yeah..."

"I mean... we could offer ourselves. Just as a temporary measure?" Hilda says weakly.

"That might work... it would be super awkward the rest of the time, but it could work." Claude says. The uncertainty in his voice shows though. It's not that he doubts it would work, but it's going to be awkward as hell and Marianne is likely going to be absolutely mortified and ashamed. It's a solution, but not a great one.

And there's still the problem of actually confronting Marianne without getting charmed to high hell and memory-wiped.

"So what do we do then?" Hilda groans.

"Just... nothing..." Claude admits in frustration. This has been his problem all week. There's no good solution, or, at least, no good solution he can actually put into practice. A great solution he though of before was to get Ignatz to offer himself for Marianne to feed it. It seems like a good idea on the surface, the two of them are already fond of each other (even if each is painfully unaware or the other's attraction), and Ignatz actually doesn't mind the side-effects of feeding too much (and without the need to memory wipe, being the target of a feeding would almost be entirely _positive_).

_But_.

Marianne self-esteem is rock-bottom, so the target of her affection realizing she's a succubus isn't going to go over well. Ignatz doesn't have all that much confidence either, so convincing him to talk to Marianne about her problem would take a miracle in itself. Not to mention Marianne would probably assume Ignatz is offering out of _pity_ rather than any positive reason... there are just too many roadblocks to get that to work at the moment, even if it's a great solution.

Besides, as much as Claude don't mind a bit of manipulation here and there, he isn't a fan of the idea of playing match-maker. A nudge once in a while is fine, but it ruins the point if outside parties get too involved and makes it all feel artificial.

"Nothing...?" Hilda asks, almost pleadingly. She wants _some_ solution. Marianne clearly isn't happy as she is.

"What do you suggest we do?" Claude shrugs helplessly. "Unless you can magically solve self-esteem issues..."

"Can she feed on... I dunno, animals?"

"Are you suggesting bestiality?"

Hilda cringes. "Never mind."

The bell rings to signal lunch time. Claude quietly packs up his things and checks out a few books. The two of them silently make their way to the mess hall, stewing in their own inability to help their classmate.

###

"An assassination plot?" Claude whistles. "Well well..."

"Apparently so." Dimitri nods. "We found the note on Lord Lonato's body. Rhea is making an official announcement about it tomorrow."

"So why are you telling us now, hmm?" Hubert asks. "That seems quite out of character for you to go behind the church's back, _your highness_."

"Indeed." Edelgard agrees. "What prompted this Dimitri?"

"I have been considering your words about the church's potential untrustworthiness..." Dimitri admits with obvious hesitance. "And while I refuse to make the jump to vilifying them, I am not oblivious to the fact that the church may twist words and change the narrative to better suit their image. I figured I should at least tell all of you what we saw, so we can judge the church's actions accordingly."

"Do continue then." Claude says, leaning forward with interest. Hilda is lying back in her chair, pretending to be bored, but she's listening too. Claude can tell because she's not actually watching the birds in the bushes anymore, she's only pretending to while she listens in. "What's the juice?"

"The handwriting of the letter itself is not Lonato's own, though the name signed at the bottom is his. Ashe confirmed it for us." Dimitri recounts. "Additionally, the letter was not all that well-hidden on his person. It was merely in an inside pouch is his cloak. If he truly wished to hide, it would have been more skilfully done."

"Or he would not have brought the letter at all." Hubert adds.

Dimitri nods. "We thought of that as well. At the moment, we-" he motions to himself and Dedue "-and the Lions are assuming the letter is a decoy. And if we as mere students can make this deduction-"

"-so can the church." Claude finishes his words. "But they're going ahead with announcing a threat to Rhea's life anyhow."

"Exactly."

"Interesting." Edelgard mutters. "Yet, it is unlikely to have been Lonato that planned this. That man was many things, but a schemer is not one of them I don't think. He was merely a powerful pawn."

"Indeed. In fact, the army he had brought to attack Garreg Mach was pitiful." Dimiti adds. "There is no way he thought he could take the monastery with only a hundred untrained peasants and his personal guard. He didn't even bring his standing army."

"Probably didn't want to weaken the protection of his lands." Hilda suddenly offers. "He knew he was going to kick the bucket, right? It was a symbolic attack. That doesn't mean he wants to leave his people undefended."

"Except those he brought with him." Dimitri mutters darkly. "But yes, that seems accurate."

"Who's in charge of his lands now?" Claude asks suddenly. "A sibling? Relative?"

Dimitri shakes his head. "Rodrigue is overseeing Lonato's territory until someone suitable is determined to replace him, as he had no living close family. It is likely the land will fall to Ashe when he comes of age. Everything was left to him in Lonato's will."

"Damn." Claude frowns. "If someone sketchy had stepped in to claim them, we might have had a lead."

"One thing at a time. We still have the matter of the false assassination plot." Edelgard says firmly. "The time of this note is no accident. The rite of rebirth cannot be so easily re-planned for another date. More guards will be relocated to guard Rhea instead, most likely. That presents an ideal opportunity to break into otherwise heavily-guarded areas of the monastery."

"What in the monastery is worth stealing?" Dimitri asks aloud. "Artifacts perhaps?"

"Seems like a lot of effort for a few old pots. Unless we're talking about weapons or something." Claude muses. "I don't think the church has any relic weapons on them, though I think they have the sword and shield of Seiros, which are legendary at least"

"The monastery supposedly has a large collection of rare plants and materials." Hilda offers, though even she seems to realize it's a weak suggestion.

"Perhaps we are thinking too small-scale. Lonato would not have died so some mere thieves could get their hands on an old sword." Hubert interrupts. "Lonato had a vendetta against the church."

"So he would be supporting a cause that would decredit the church, or injure it in some way." Claude realizes. "So they still could be stealing old relics or whatever, or multiple of what we've suggested, but the point of it all isn't even that they're stealing things, it's to prove something."

"What? That they can break into Garreg Mach?" Hilda asks.

"Perhaps." Dimitri suggests quietly. "It is to prove the church is not all-powerful. I have heard stirrings of discontent for a long time now with how the church handles itself, and how it seems to have an iron grip over the continent."

"So maybe Lonato intended to act as a martyr." Claude nods. "And this upcoming attack as a rallying cry to the like-minded."

Edelgard nods. "That does seem plausible. However I still suspect the intruders will go after a single object or location. While guards will be redirected to Rhea, it is not like the monastery will be entirely undefended. "Jeralt's mercenaries will be here, for one. As well as the students, who I imagine will be asked to aid in the defence of the monastery."

"What is the single most important thing in the monastery?" Claude muses aloud. "Aside from Rhea?"

"Seteth?" Dimitri offers.

"_Religiously_ important. Not bureaucratic."

"The sword and shield of Seiros?"

"Maybe..."

"Perhaps-" Dedue says, surprising all of them. He's been quiet the entire conversation so far. "-the Mausoleum may be a target? Supposedly the body of the Goddess is interred there. Even if such a thing is not true, if the intruders succeed in infiltrating the Mausoleum they could still _claim_ to have stolen the body and decredit the church that way."

Claude blinks, thinks it over, and nods. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"I agree." Dimitri nods. "Edelgard? Hubert?"

"A devilish plan. It sounds appropriate." Hubert approves. "Your Majesty?"

"I agree as well. That is quite an intelligent deduction Dedue." Edelgard praises. "The Holy Mausoleum is also home to a number of crest stones as well, which would make a good consolation prize should the Goddess's body prove to not actually be present."

"This is all great." Hilda interrupts. "But what are we gonna do with this information anyways? You already said Rhea is going to go ahead and announce the assassination plot."

"I believe Lady Rhea will be relying on the students and the professors to handle the actual threat." Hubert mutters. "The church needs to appear fooled so the intruders will attempt their attack, only to be captured by those they did not expect."

Dimitri frowns. "I do realize we are training to become soldiers, but even so this seems an inappropriate mission to hand to students."

"So was the execution of Lord Lonato, but the church did so anyways." Edelgard reminds him.

The prince grimaces and nods. "Unfortunately, I muse concede the point."

"Well then." Claude claps his hands and stands up. "I think we should spread word, _quietly_, to our classmates. Not our housemates, too much risk of the information getting out, just our classmates. The elites."

Dimtri and Edelgard nod. Claude is speaking of the highest rank of classes in Garreg Mach, the ones that are the most expensive and intended for training up-and-coming generals and military officers. Unlike admission for the rest of the Officer's Academy, which the Church handles, the respective nations handle admission for these elite classes. That's why it is so difficult for commoners to join any house that isn't the Golden Deer, because Adrestia and Faerghus tend to hold slots in the class for young nobles. Everyone in the Lions got in by being nobility, adopted by nobility, or former nobility, and the only commoner in the Eagles is Dorothea because she managed to convince (see: seduce) a nobleman into sponsoring her. The Deer are a lot less picky about who goes to the academy, mostly because they don't put as much stock in it overall. Anyone with enough money is fine by them.

Claude has some strong opinions about this structure, but that's a discussion for another time.

"Let us meet again after Rhea has made her announcement." Edelgard suggests. She stands up from her seat, and everyone else does the same. "Until then." She nods her head to each of them in turn, spins on her heel, and struts off with Hubert in tow. With nothing to discuss between the four of them, Claude, Hilda, Dimitri and Dedue also go their separate ways.

###

"Claude?"

"Hmm?"

"What the hell is this?"

"Oh, that. It's a spore ball."

"A _what_?"

"A spore ball. You know, ball of spores. Plant spores? Yeah, that. That thing actually cost me a full pig, literally, I paid with a pig. So... don't ruin it."

"Why would you buy this anyways?"

"You never know when you might need a ball of extremely potent paralytic spores, especially considering how much trouble I tend to get myself into."

Hilda gives him a weird look. "Okay... and _how_ did you get this? What sort of plant is it from? Why did you pay with a pig and not money? Did you steal the pig?"

"Well I _did_ have money, but yes, I also stole the pig." Claude chuckles. "I was on the run at the time. Long story. Mistaken identity, racism, scapegoating... all that good stuff. I traded the pig for the spore ball with an acquaintance of mine. I got three actually, two I've used already. I gave her lunch in exchange for some of her paralyzing spores. Best deal I ever made."

"Wait, _her_ paralyzing spores? As in she _made_ the spores?"

"Yep. She's an alraune. Nasty girl if she's hungry. Good thing I knew to bring the pig."

"Alraune as in 'man-eating flower' alraune, right?"

"Yep."

"What the fuck Claude."

"What? So I made a trade with a man-eating flower! It's not a big deal."

"You're insane."

"No, I'm _smart._ That's why I brought the pig. Besides, I'd met her before, I wasn't going in blind. Besides, she doesn't eat people... usually."

"Only usually?"

"Just those who strike her as bad people."

"And what makes someone a bad person?"

"Well usually she charms them-"

"What is it with you and finding people with charm abilities?"

"-with some spores and asks them some questions, and _then_ decides if she should eat them."

"Great." Hilda says dryly. "And is this normal by the standards of Almyran flora?"

"Eh, it's not the worst thing. At least you'll be so drugged up on spores you won't be in pain as you die. If you ran into a hangman tree instead it'd be a real painful death." Claude pauses, then stares at her. "Wait, you're not supposed to know I'm Almyran. How did you-"

"You're part dark elf Claude. It's not hard to figure out." Hilda snorts. "Worst kept secret of the whole school."

"How do you know I'm part dark elf?" Claude asks defensively. Realistically this isn't something to get worked up about, Hilda is not going to give two shits about his Almyran heritage, but he's used to protecting that information. "Or that it means I'm from Almyra?"

"You just told me two seconds ago. Also, you have pointy ears, and your accent gives you away." Hilda shrugs.

"I don't have an accent..."

"Not a massive one, but it's there. A non-native speaker of a language will never be able to perfectly emulate a native one. Too hard to relearn instinctive mouth movements and whatnot." Hilda explains. "I mean, you could pass for someone who lives on the border, I just made an educated guess that you were from Almyra and were just _really_ good at toning down your accent."

Which, of course, is completely true. Hilda has a read on him, which he supposes shouldn't be unexpected by this point. It still makes him uncomfortable though. She has potential blackmail material on him now, and even if he doesn't think she'll use it he doesn't feel comfortable knowing she _could_.

"You're quiet all of a sudden. Did I spark your paranoia?"

Yep, she can read him. "No."

"Right, I totally did. What's the problem Claude? Are you worried I don't like boys with pointy ears?" She teases.

"Hilda has an ear fetish, noted." Claude snipes back, trying to regain control of the situation. "I'll be sure to remember that."

"Uh-huh. Stop avoiding the question Claude."

"Hey, you're the one who joked about my ears first."

"Claude." Hilda says in a warning tone.

"Hilda." He replies evenly. He absolutely refuses to expose more of himself. It's too risky.

"Tell me what's wrong Claude."

"What makes you think there's something wrong? I said nothing was wrong." Claude denies. He forces a smile. "See? I'm good, like always."

"Yeah, and that's total bullshit, and we both know it's total bullshit, so cut it out Claude."

"No idea what you're talking about Hil! Maybe you're stressed. Are you worried about Marianne? I know she's your friend."

Hilda's eyes narrow. "Claude-"

"Maybe you just need to relax a bit, right? How about dinner? I'll pay."

"You can't bribe me into letting this drop with food Claude."

"Bribe? Pff. I owe you a lot, remember? This isn't a bribe, it's paying back one of the many favors I owe you." Claude says. He can feel his heart rate even out. Good, he's in control again. He's good at making things up. Bullshit is his specialty.

"Don't lie to me Claude."

Claude feels a little bit bad. Hilda is his closest ally right now, a friend. This really is a petty thing to be stubborn about, right? Or maybe it's not. Maybe he needs to protect himself. He can't play games with potential blackmail material. Plausible deniability, right? He can't _know_ he can trust Hilda, or _anyone_ for that matter.

Play it safe. Control the information. That's what he's always done, and it won't stop now.

"I think you're seeing things that aren't there Hilda. You know I trust you." The lie feels like acid on his tongue. He instantly wants to take it back. He's fine with lying about a lot of things, even to Hilda, but saying that he trusts her insincerely feels like a breach of friendship.

A few weeks ago it wouldn't have felt like that. A few weeks ago Hilda would have rolled her eyes and this subject would have been dropped, but she's pushing now, and he feels bad about denying her now when before it would have been a routine brush-off. Something changed...

"_Of course_." Claude realizes belatedly. "_My panic attack._"

He let himself be too vulnerable _one time_, and now he's paying the price. He got too close. His subconscious even tried to warn him, to get him to push her away, but he didn't.

Hilda is glowering at him rather intensely now. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Try again."

Shit. Shit. Does he double-down or turn back? He wants to trust Hilda, but every bit of his survival instinct is screaming at him that it's a terrible idea. The logical side of him is telling him it's a bad idea too. It's just his emotional part that disagrees, the part that likes Hilda, that wants a close friend.

The petty, childish, foolish part of him that just wants another hug.

Claude keeps his forced smile. "No idea what you're talking about Hilda."

###

Hilda is frustrated. No, scratch that. More than frustrated. Angry. She knew, and he _knew_ she knew, but he clammed up and deflected all questions anyways. It's not like he had something he could hide from her, he already revealed himself by accident, so there was no point in him refusing to talk about it.

"_Paranoid jackass._" Hilda broods. She bites forcefully into her... soup. Right. No one saw that. "_He_ c_an't even trust me with something I already know._"

She thought she was making progress too! She watched over him when he was sick, let him stay with her after his freak-out over being attacked, and he started to actively return favors, always offering to do this and that, and she knew that she just had to ask and he'd find a way to help her with whatever it was.

It took way longer than it should have to find a crate of blackleaf from a trustworthy source. Claude did most of the work for her as payment for... some favor. She stopped keeping track of favors early on, she was joking about expecting anything in return in the first place (except her money of course), but Claude took his 'debt' seriously.

Maybe that should have been a sign he wouldn't trust her. He always had to know _exactly_ how much he owed her like it was a contract of some sort; a deal, not a partnership. She joked about it sure, but it was just that: a joke.

"_He has no reason not to trust me. I made myself very trustworthy._" Hilda thinks. "_I never told anyone about his late-night roaming, and I let him copy my notes, I never told anyone about his plans or sensitive details we've discussed. Why was him being Almyran the sticking point? Because it's about his past? He knows about my past. He knows I'm an old blood too, and that's not exactly something everyone knows._"

Granted, most people don't know it because no one cares to look into it, and there are very few descriptions of old bloods in public circulation, and it's not like it's a secret or something she needs to deny-

So basically it's just an interesting fact, not a secret.

"_Would he feel better if I had traded? A secret for a secret?_" Hilda wonders. She doesn't like that idea. It reduces their friendship to a negotiation table, always worrying about things being perfectly balanced and not giving the other person anything without making sure you can secure collateral in return. That's not a friendship, that's a ongoing business deal. "_At the same time, friendship is built on trust, right? If he gave me a secret, even a small one, and I gave nothing of the sort in return, that's totally one-sided. It was fine until I tried to __demand__ his trust based on the idea I was already trustworthy._"

She pokes at the vegetables floating in her soup.

"Not that I should have to worry about an exact one-to-one, but I never exactly made myself vulnerable in return, did I?" Hilda mutters. Claude hadn't even intended to make himself vulnerable _at all_, but she took that for granted and assumed it was an indicator of trust, not of "I'm freaking out and you haven't tried to stab me in the back yet".

This is complicated. Hilda hates complicated. Hilda hates work. She wants to do nothing. She wants to sit in her bed and do crafts, or chat with Marianne or Dorothea, or listen to Claude's next stupid plan which he'll inevitable spend too much time at night trying to execute and show up the next day exhausted. He'll have to lean on her again, and she'll complain about it until he dozes off.

(Move his head to her chest so he's lying on something soft, not her hard shoulder. Make sure his neck isn't bent too far so he doesn't wake up with a crick. Don't move too quickly, don't wake him).

Fuck.

(Smiling, shaking, faking calm, failing badly. No memory, pretending he's interested, not terrified. He looks fragile, so Hilda protects him. She likes how he feels against her body and in her bed. She likes that she can comfort someone. He's still there when she wakes up again).

She really enjoyed being able to hold him. It felt weird to take charge. Not bad, just... weird. Exciting even. Though she had to tamper that excitement, it wasn't appropriate for the moment.

Hilda groans out loud and her head hits the table. She hates when things are complicated.

###

Claude is back to his old self, and he hates it. Smile at everyone, never relax but always pretend to, and keep your plans to yourself. No need for second opinions, the only one he can trust without reservation is himself.

No going to Hilda's room to talk strategy or just bug her with whatever inane idea crosses his mind. No more taking her out to dinner to repay debts he's fairly sure she doesn't care about. No more wasting time; just planning, scouting, and action. Downtime is for those who _can_ afford to share their past without heavy censoring so that they don't get blackmailed or targeted politically for being a foreigner. Relaxing? Hah! He forgot about relaxing when he learned being part dark elf meant he was the spawn of the devil himself according to the Fodlandi, and that being part human meant he was a rat according to the Almyrans.

Friends are for people _without_ crippling trust issues.

It's easy to distract himself at least. He has plans upon plans upon plans that he's been waiting for time to execute, and without all that unnecessary 'leisure time' he's been taking part in for the last few months he's really made progress. By listening in on conversations had by the monastery staff and Knights of Seiros he managed to learn that they're well aware of Marianne's feedings (they don't know exactly who, but they know it's happening), but that Hanneman keeps insisting it's nothing to be concerned about and that he's "working on it".

So Hanneman is in on Marianne being a succubus, which is unexpectedbut makes sense. Hanneman may be the father of crestology, but having 'lived' for two-hundred years and read every single book that's come his way means he knows a lot about _everything_, including magical items and the nuances of various species. He probably realized what Marianne was as soon as he saw her magic necklace and cycle-based behaviour.

Also, Claude has managed to gather various anecdotes about his schoolmates. Dorothea also has some magic jewelry (no obvious cycles though, so she's either not a succubus or has a way to manage her feeding). Hubert only eats meat, no exceptions. He gets physically ill if he eats anything else. Annette... makes potions. Really good potions. A witch maybe? Hard to tell. Bernadetta sometimes forgets to eat for days on end but apparently suffers no ill effects, and Dimitri can break a steel lance with his bare hands.

Claude has also been gathering information on troop movements and political orientations throughout all three major factions of Fodlan. The Alliance is busy fighting among itself as usual, but some of the border dukedoms have been noted to have Empire leanings. Same goes with Kingdom lords that border the Empire, though the Kingdom retains support from enough of the major political powers within it's borders that it doesn't need to worry about a coup. Troop movements are passive as usual within the Kingdom and the Empire with the exception of the Hresvelg's elite armored corps, who have vanished without a trace, and select sections of the Vestra Magic Corps who have done the same. Additionally, the Hresvelg's army has done some serious campaigning for new army recruits for the last few months, which is... worrying. It could just be that the emperor is in a fragile position and he wants a solid army to protect Edelgard during her rise to the throne (as passing the crown and the initial year of rule is always the most dangerous time of a ruler's reign, and the current emperor is clearly on his way out) but it worries Claude nonetheless.

Lastly, Claude has found information through Thomas, the librarian, about an old dragon called The Immaculate One. There's a sketch of it and what looks like old hymns singing it's praise. The thing is... the sketches are a lot more recent than the era of Ancients. They're dated in the Imperial year 103. A long time ago, sure, but past the era of Liberation when all the dragons were said to have died out. Even Thomas didn't know the source book for that scrap of paper, so the exact context of the drawing and hymns and if they were ever distributed is unknown, but its certainly curious.

Thomas even let him 'borrow' the page, whispering that Seteth maybe wouldn't approve of it and may try to take it if he ever found it in the library, so Claude should consider the loan permanent until further notice.

So basically, Thomas let him steal a really old, extremely valuable, potentially controversial picture of a dragon that should have been dead at the time of the picture's making. Claude isn't complaining.

All of that is well and good. Progress you might say, and Claude would indeed say that. Everything is great. Sure he feels constantly tired, he sometimes forgets that meals are a thing he needs to have, and his classmates are starting to ask if he's okay, but it's _fine_.

He's fine and no one can tell him otherwise. As long as he doesn't get sick again, everything will be fine.

"I hope you all prepared well!" Manuela sings as she strides into class. "Because today is the test!"

Everything isn't fine. How did he forget this was happening? He was sure he made time yester... no he was breaking into Seteth's office again yesterday. The day before that he spent cross-referencing notes about troop movements and political orientations, and the day before that he was eavesdropping on people the whole afternoon listening for gossip, and the day before that... he had a spat with his fri- _former_ friend about the fact that yes, he is indeed half dark elf and of Almyran heritage.

"_Usually Hilda reminds me of tests._" Claude remembers. "_I have to remember on my own now._"

He also relied on Hilda to compare notes with on classes in case he missed something. He'll have to find someone else, or pay closer attention.

"_That shouldn't be a problem. I have extra time. I don't waste time telling Hilda about my plans anymore, or bouncing ideas off her, or getting second opinions, or-_"

Claude wrenches his train of thought away from Hilda. He needs to focus. He has a test.

Two rows ahead of him, he can see Hilda receive her paper, dab her quill in the well, and start writing. She looks like she knows what she's doing. That's-

"Not my concern." Claude reminds himself. "Focus..."

He does awful on the test.

###

Claude manages to make himself sick again. That potent concoction of exhaustion, physical activity, stress, being around a lot of people all the time, and sometimes forgetting meals makes him easy prey for whatever virus comes his way.

"_Was there another test this week?_" He tries to remember through a hazy mind. "_Was it the Demon or Hanneman? What was it about?_"

He pushes the covers off his body and grimaces at the chill that rolls over him. His feet are too unsteady for his liking, or is that just him being lightheaded?

Right, at this rate he won't be able to lean over to grab his bag without falling on the floor. Claude drops back into his bed and stares at the ceiling.

"_I could really use some water._" He thinks dazedly. "_What time is it? Is it still morning? Should I have had lunch yet? When was Manuela supposed to come by?_"

His throat feels dry, his skin cold, his muscles weak. He feels like shit.

"_It wasn't this bad last time._" He remembers. "_Last time..._"

Last time Hilda was here. Fuck. Maybe he can just suffocate himself in his pillow. That seems like a good idea right now.

...

You know, he was joking about that, but now that he's fallen face-first into his pillow he's finding it rather difficult to roll over. Wow, he's a lot weaker than he assumed he was. He won't die from this or anything, he can still sorta breath, but it's really uncomfortable.

"You know, Sylvain once joked that he'd die if I didn't return his affection. I can see you're taking it a lot more literally." Hilda says as she steps into his room. She didn't even knock. Rude.

"Mfroh Hilfa." Claude manages to mutter, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Hilda stares down at him. "You can't roll over can you?"

"Yef I cahn."

"Then do it."

Claude tries... and can't. Hilda sighs and effortlessly rolls him over using her pinky finger. Claude tries not to make his gasping for breath too noticeable. "What-" He coughs violently and grimaces. That cough hurt. A lot. "What makes you think it was about you? I might have been suffocating in _general_ despair."

"Right." Hilda sounds absolutely unconvinced. "You look like shit by the way."

"Flatterer."

"You sound like shit too. How much have you had to drink today?"

"Uh... a glass of water?"

"As in a _single_ glass of water?"

"Yes? At least I think it was full."

Hilda gives him a long, hard look. She abruptly turns around and stalks out of his room.

"...well that went well." Claude mutters to himself. He stares at the ceiling. He feels like shit, he looks like shit, he sounds like shit, and Hilda abandoned him to his misery because he's an idiot that almost suffocated himself in a pillow. Great.

Hilda returns a minute later with a tray of food, a whole pitcher of water, and an extra pillow. She sets the food and water aside and sits Claude up properly, and puts the extra pillow behind him. "You're supposed to keep your head elevated you know."

"I know."

She raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "And you didn't because...?"

"I was trying to get my notes. My head was up before." Claude protests weakly. He crosses his arms defiantly, which probably, he realizes, makes him look like a petulant child. "Since when did you become a doctor?"

"I didn't. I'm just not an idiot."

"Don't compliment me too much Hilda. You might bruise my ego."

Hilda ignores him. She fills a glass of water and shoves it at him. Claude downs it eagerly. The water soothes his burning throat, though it sends another chill through his body.

Hilda notices. "Are you cold or warm?"

"Cold."

Hilda pulls one of the extra blankets at the bottom of his bed (he'd forgotten Manuela left those there...) up to his shoulders. Claude is grateful of course, but the distrust in the back of his brain is already making itself known.

"_Danger._" It whispers. "_You're weak. She's powerful. Stay alert. Dagger under your pillow. Don't take your eyes off her. Don't let her get close._"

It's hard to _un_learn seeing the world in terms of potential threats. If Hilda wanted to hurt him she could have smashed his head in the moment she entered the room and there's nothing he could have done about it.

That thought doesn't particularly reassure him though.

"Eat." Hilda instructs, handing the plate to him. Her expression is hard to read, as if she's purposefully keeping it neutral.

Claude does so dutifully. Hilda stares at him the entire time, and it's immensely uncomfortable. Claude can't help but feel he deserves it though. When he's done she takes the plate and sets it aside, then stares at him again. Claude opens his mouth, closes it, then tries again. "So..."

"Are we going to talk about it now, or when you're better?" Hilda asks bluntly.

"About what?"

Hilda sighs. "Claude..."

"Sorry."

"No, no, I'm sorry too. I pushed too far."

That doesn't sound right to Claude's ears. "No, I just can't trust people. It wasn't your fault at all."

"What? I knew you were a bit paranoid beforehand, I should have accounted for that."

"You shouldn't have to do that, I should have pushed past my irrational fears." Claude insists.

Hilda clearly doesn't agree. "You shouldn't be _forced_ to do something your uncomfortable with just because I insist on it, even if it is due to an irrational fear."

"You're being too lenient on me."

"And you seem determined to prosecute yourself."

The two of them stare at each other for a long moment. Claude breaks the silence. "This is a stupid argument, isn't it?"

"Just a bit. I feel like an idiot for even being a part of it."

"Me too."

"Can we just decide this... fight or whatever it was is over now and go back to what we were doing before?"

"As in go back to me mildly distrusting you and it inevitably causing problems again?"

"Sure. It's better than avoiding each other."

Claude isn't satisfied by that. It feels wrong, like he's taking advantage of her kindness. "Hilda."

"Yes?"

"It was blackmail."

"What?"

"Blackmail." Claude repeats nervously. "That was the problem. My background is prime blackmail material. It's easy to put a target on the back of someone with Almyran heritage, especially a half-dark elf. It's not that I necessarily thought you'd use it, just..."

"It's bad practice to let _anyone_ know." She finishes. "Take no chances."

"Exactly."

"Geeze, that sounds like an awful way to live."

"Hey, at least I get to keep living. I didn't become distrustful by chance. I learned to act this way out of necessity." Claude sighs. "Almyra kinda sucks. I love it of course, it's my home, but when assassination is the name of the political game, you learn to be paranoid or you end up poisoned, paralyzed, and dying in a pool of your own vomit."

"Gross."

"That actually happened to someone. I'm not making it up." It was ugly, and not quiet. He'd rather not think about the details...

Hilda scrunches up her nose. "Extra gross. Does this mean you trust me now by the way?"

"A little." More like he's forcing himself to put sensitive information in her hands to try and prove to the paranoid part of his brain that it _won't_ end with a dagger in his back or him being run out of the monastery.

"Why is this such a big deal but you were fine with telling me all your plans?"

"The consequences for sneaking into Seteth's office are... what? A few weeks of detention? Big deal. They'd have to catch me doing it anyways." Claude shrugs, then grimaces. "Uh, can I have more water?"

"Yeah, sure..."

###

Claude doesn't feel any more comfortable around her, but that's fine. That can come in time. For now he has his closest ally back, and he can justify putting a bit of trust in her by calling it 'an experiment' to himself.

It's 'an experiment' to slowly reveal his past to Hilda. It's 'an experiment' if he forces himself to sit with his back to her while he does something rather than always having her in his line of sight, even if it sends the paranoid part of his brain into fits. It's 'an experiment' to casually lean against her while teasing, or to not imminently try to wiggle away when grabs him in a headlock for poking fun at her again, or to say "I know you won't" when she threatens to throw him in the lake because he knows that she knows he can't swim.

She doesn't throw him in. She pretends to throttle him instead, but that's a show. He's _safe_ in her hands. Or at least as safe as his survival instincts will allow him to feel.

"_Danger._" They still whisper. "_You're weak, she's strong. Don't let her touch you, don't let her close. Dagger in your pocket, neck is the weak point, be ready, be alert._"

Now, at least, Claude has the ability (or maybe just the courage?) to say in return: "_Shut up, it's just Hilda. I'm fine._"

* * *

**A bit of a different chapter. Lots of plot, lots of character drama. This was fun. I didn't realize how paranoid I'd made Claude until I wrote the scene where he tries to deflect the conversation and noticed that it felt totally in-character for how I write him. I've made him twitchy, distrustful, and hyper-aware of danger.**

**Also, this whole Hilda/Claude relationship-building subplot isn't going to drag out through the entire story. It's going to be mostly resolved by the time the time skip comes around. Hilda is absolutely going to remain a central character after the subplot completes, just, they ain't gonna be dancing around their feelings for the whole damn story.**


	10. Monsters

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**I need to keep a delicate balance here of plot progression, relationship progressions, and Claude analyzing other characters and species. I say 'delicate', but what I really mean is 'whatever the hell I feel like at the moment', though I'll try to refrain from going full romance all the time despite the fact that I'll inevitably fail horribly.**

**That said, I'm not very **_**varied**_ **in the relationship dynamics I know how to write, so it's probably for the best I restrain myself.**

**Also, Ignatz is surprisingly hard to write. I keep feeling like I'm not doing him quite right. Like I'm making him too… timid? Too nervous? Something like that. It's bugging me.**

* * *

"What's that?" Hilda asks, peering over his shoulder. "You've been staring at it for a while now." Her eyes drift to the bottom of the page, and her eyebrows quirk up. "Margrave Edmund? Marianne's adoptive father? What does he want?"

"Help apparently." Claude murmurs. "Strange of him to request it from me of all people. Well, the Golden Deer, but the message was sent to me."

"Not Rhea or Seteth?" Hilda frowns. "That's… interesting. What does he want?"

"He's having some trouble with dire animals attacking his border villages. Most of his military is currently occupied protecting trade routes, especially the aquatic ones because it seems a scylla has taken issue to massive boats sailing through their territory so frequently."

Hilda whistles. "Yowch."

"Yeah." Claude doesn't envy being the poor soldier that actually ends up fighting that thing. "So we're being asked to provide help. He'll compensate us, of course."

"That's still weird." Hilda mutters, looking at the amount. "He could have hired mercenaries for that much."

Claude hums in agreement, his expression neutral. "I have a theory."

"Hmm?"

"I think this might be an excuse to have Marriane visit home." Claude says.

"Why? If he wants to check on Marianne, he could just… send a letter."

"And you think Marianne would be truthful? You think she's going to say "Hey, I feel like shit and avoid everyone all the time, thanks for sending me somewhere I'm incredibly uncomfortable to be"?"

"I don't think she'd say _that…_ but good point." Hilda mutters. "So do we accept?"

"Well it's not up to just us. We need to consult Teach and the other Deer." Claude reminds her.  
"And _excuse_ you, the message is addressed to _me_ Hilda." The boy adds sarcastically. "Do _I_ accept, not you."

"Sorry _oh great leader_." Hilda says sarcastically. "I'll defer to your _wisdom_."

"You mock me being the leader, but mocking my intelligence too?" Claude says, trying to look as wounded as possible. "You doubt me Hilda? My brilliant brain? The best part of me?"

"_That's_ your best part?" Hilda asks in disbelief. "I'd hate to see your worst then."

"Gack!" Claude grabs his chest. "The pain! I thought we were friends! Hilda, how could you?"

She rolls her eyes to the heavens. "Sorry _great leader_. Do you need a lollipop or something?"

"I can't be bribed by sweets. I'm not Lysithea…" He huffs. "Give me _some _credit."

###

They end up accepting the mission. The class is all fine with it (Lysithea is annoyed, and Marianne nervous, but that's about it), and the Demon just says "okay" when they present it to him.

The trip to Edmund territory will take a few days. They start along merchant roads, even buying a sheltered cart and horses so they don't have to walk the entire way (though Byleth requires them to march at least a few hours a day for training purposes).

That leaves them with a lot of downtime though. Since they're not walking, that means they don't have something to focus on. Everyone's pastimes are different. Byleth... doesn't have one. He sits at the front of the cart guiding the horses the entire time except when he's walking, in which case either Marianne or Leonie guide the horses.

Marianne spends a lot of time up at the front of the cart even when Byleth is walking. She seems to like being around the horses. When she's not guiding the horses she's either walking or praying. She doesn't talk to anyone unless spoken too.

It's Thursday when they leave. Claude knows Friday and Saturday are Marianne's feeding days, and they're going to be on the road during that time, so he's interested to see how that turns out. Maybe he can figure out something useful…

Lysithea reads pretty much the whole trip. She is just as, if not _more_, antisocial than Marianne, though because of intense desire to study rather than sheer shyness.

Leonie does a bunch of small tasks. She cleans her weapons, fixes her clothes, does any little thing she can while travelling. She even takes to fixing _other_ people's things just to have something to do.

Raphael talks. That's really all he does. Thankfully, he has a _lot_ of stories to tell, and it keeps the relatively cramped space of the cart from feeling too awkward with his cheerful tales.

Speaking of cramped, Ignatz is squished all the way in the back. Being the smallest of the group (well, tied with Lysithea), this also means he basically disappears behind all the other bodies. Really the layout of people in the cart isn't the smartest. All the small and antisocial people are in the back. You know, the _most_ cramped part of the cart. Lysithea is huddled away in one corner, Marianne in the other, and Ignatz is between the two. Raphael and Leonie and Lorenz are on either side of the middle of the cart, and it's Claude and Hilda who usually sit at the end.

Anyhow, Ignatz is squished in the back. He spends some time trying to draw, but paint or ink aren't practical to use in a shaking cart, so he has to abandon that. There's a solid hour on the first day where he just sits there staring out the back of the cart and glancing at the people around him. He eventually tries to make quiet conversation with Lysithea (which fails, she's busy reading) and then Marianne (which goes a bit better, but they're both too awkward around each other to talk for more than a few minutes).

Lorenz also spends time reading. He has a variety of probably very new and fashionable books to occupy his time.

He still hasn't learned to fully control his light. Everyone within the cart is subject to random blasts of light until Leonie gets fed up and throws a blanket over the boy to block it out, and Lorenz reluctantly complies.

Claude and Hilda banter. A lot. _Any _subject to talk about is good enough for them to stave off boredom. Hilda copes with it better than Claude to be fair, she has a variety of easy art hobbies she can do even while they talk, but Claude is well used to situations a lot worse than this so it's not bad for him either.

Another way to spend time in the cart, which Claude expects everyone will partake in at some point, is sleep. First it's Marrianne, and entirely by accident. She's probably asleep for a few hours with her head resting against the cart wall when-

"Did _no one_ bring a deck of cards or dice or something!?" Leonie barks, startling the poor blue-haired girl awake. "Seriously, we're going to be travelling for _multiple days_ in this thing!"

"_That would have been a good idea_." Claude thinks to himself dully. He's watching Hilda make a bracelet at the moment. Somehow the inactivity of the cart is more tiring than a full day of activity, so he's lying down on the bench.

When they stop for dinner, Byleth hands them a bag of dice and cards. Apparently _he_ knew to bring them along. The person who needs them the least was the only person to think to bring them.

###

They don't have the knights of Seiros looking over their shoulder for this mission, so they can assign tents however they want. There's five tents, meaning one person gets their own and the others have to share. Everyone unanimously agrees Lorez gets his own tent, because no one wants to deal with his random flashing. Lysithea stays with Marianne, Ignatz with Rapheal, then Byleth with Leonie, and Claude with Hilda.

Leonie had complained about being stuck with Byleth, but Claude was absolutely _not_ going to be able to sleep with the Demon in his tent. Even Lorenz would be better than that. So, while Leonie wasn't exactly happy about it, that was more because it was _Byleth_ and not because he was male. Leonie really couldn't have cared less about that.

Without the knights though, guard duty needs to be done. Byleth volunteers for the first shift on his own, but the other two shifts require two people each. Byleth actually vetoes allowing close friends to go on guard duty together, pointing out that they'll distract each other.

So that's how Claude ends up on guard duty with Marianne on the second shift. Why _Marianne_ of all people was chosen is beyond him. Marianne is probably the worst person to do guard duty of all the Deer.

Actually, maybe that's why she was put with him. He's the best choice for guard duty because he can see in the dark, and Marianne is the worst because of her skittishness. He can compensate for her.

Incidentally, the reason they're not sleeping in an inn or something is literally just because it didn't occur to Byleth. His father's mercenaries rarely slept in inns just because of how many of them there were and the collective cost of doing that, so he never even considered the fact that they could stop in an inn instead of camping.

Claude isn't about to let this opportunity pass him up. He can't think of another situation where he'd be able to privately talk to Marianne without explicitly seeking her out (which could raise suspicions).

"So Marianne…" Claude says. The girl is sitting around the fire while Claude does rounds at the edge of the camp, making use of his night vision. He takes a seat across the fire, just for a minute, so he chat. "How's school treating you? I notice you tend to look rather tired. Is the course load too much?"

"N-No, it's fine…" Marianne mumbles, staring at the fire. Her hands fiddle with the gem on her necklace. She looks miserable at the moment. Her eyes are slightly red, probably from exhaustion and being on three hours of sleep at the moment, and her makeup is smudge-

"_Makeup?_" Claude blinks. "_She wears makeup?_" That's not something he expected. He figured from the bags always under her eyes that she paid very little attention to her appearance. Claude squints, trying to make out the fine details. "_Actually… I think the bags under her eyes are the makeup. I don't think she actually has bags._"

That makes a certain amount of sense. One of the passive abilities of succubi, as you might expect, is an immaculate appearance. There's a solid chance in Claude's mind that Marianne puts _active effort _into hiding that fact or making herself look worse.

"Are you sure? You don't have to be polite for my sake." Claude prods. "I've noticed how exhausted you tend to look before the weekend."

Marianne squirms uncomfortably in her spot. "I-It's really nothing Claude…"

"Come on, I'm house leader! It's my job to listen. No problem is too small!" Claude grins. "Or maybe you're staying up late, is that it? Marianne…" He jokingly shakes his head. "I would never have taken _you_ to be someone who ignores curfew."

Marianne actually blushes a bit and her hands squeeze the gem she's holding. "I-It's not that…"

The "usually" is implicit, because Claude knows very well it _is_ sometimes that. She feeds after curfew after all.

"I-I don't go out of my room, but I sometimes stay up to pray." She murmurs.

"Seems like an interesting time to do daily prayers. They hold those at the Cathedral during the day too you know."

"I attend those as well." She says softly. "But I feel my prayers bear repeating, so they may better reach the Goddess's ears."

"Ah, right right…" Well, that's a somewhat plausible excuse. Claude doesn't really know what he's doing here. Maybe he's trying to catch Marianne out in a lie? No, no. He just wants to learn _something_, and the best way to do that is to prod. "But there's no point in exhausting yourself just to pray. Unless you're secretly some horrible murderer and you're trying to repent, I doubt you have that much to pray for."

Marianne mutely shakes her head. "I-I'm not that, but I still have much to ask the Goddess to forgive. I have sinned, and prayer is to be my only solace…"

"That sounds… dramatic. And drastic." Claude notes. "Prayer is your _only_ solace? There are usually other ways to solve a problem or fix something you've done."

The girl shakes her head again. "M-My sin is not something that can be solved, or fixed. Apologies, reparations… nothing would be sufficient."

Claude leans back and stares at the sky. What does he say to that? Claude doesn't mind religion all that much, but it can really be a pain sometimes. You get mentalities like this where people think talking to some faceless being in the sky is going to solve their problems, and because it's based on belief rather than logic, no matter how much evidence you bring up that they're not going to fix anything by praying, they won't listen because they have _faith_.

He's seen the same problem in Gilbert. Rather than just _confronting his problem_ he thinks devotion is going to magically fix everything.

What bullshit. Unfortunately Claude really doesn't know how to handle someone with a mindset like that.

"Well, I guess we'll have to agree to disagree." Claude sighs. "I've never been one to put much stock in prayer as a solution for something. The Goddess must be a busy person you know? She'd probably appreciate it more if I could handle my problems myself so she can pay attention to other things."

"I-I suppose?" Marianne stammers, and her eyes come up to look at him for a moment. "I never considered that…"

"Right? So come on, share." Claude grins. "Not with me if you don't want to. Hilda maybe? You seem to enjoy tea together sometimes, and I can assure you she's more reliable then she pretends to be. Or maybe Ignatz? You two seem… _fond_ of each other."

The girl curls in on herself, and her hands start to fiddle with her necklace again. She won't meet his eyes. Claude realizes something he said must have made her nervous. "O-Oh? Really? U-Um... I'll c-consider it…"

"Great." Claude grins. "Now if you'll excuse me, I should make some more rounds. We're supposed to be doing guard duty after all!"

As he walks by her, Claude takes a chance and pokes Marianne in the cheek. She startles, eyes snapping up to him, and he grins and winks at her.

"Pay attention! You're a guard tonight too!"

Her cheeks blush red in embarrassment. "R-Right. Sorry…"

The rest of the shift goes uneventfully for them, and they wake up Ignatz and Lorenz for the next shift before turning in.

###

Marianne really looks dead on her feet the next morning. Her makeup is much less elegantly applied, she's dazed and constantly zones out of what's happening, and her tendency to stare is back in full force. The others seem to think she's tired and didn't get sleep, but Claude and Hilda exchange silent looks. They know exactly what's going on.

Unfortunately, because everyone _else _doesn't know what's going on, they all try to get Marianne to sleep. No matter how much the girl protests, everyone is determined to get her to sleep, until...

"Maybe it's like what I get guys." Ignatz suggests. He turns to Marianne. "Sometimes I wake up after a long night of sleep and just feel really tired, b-but I feel really inspired in the afternoon! And it's a pleasant sort of tired… and I usually have a hole in my memory the night before… uh, is that what you're going through?"

"_Oh_ _dear_." Claude thinks, trying not to smile. Ignatz just described the results of Marianne's own feedings to her, and there's no way Marianne doesn't know that. Maybe it's mean of him to find this funny, but it is.

Marianne wilts in her seat. Her eyes fall to the floor and scrunch up like she's going to cry. "I-I… no… sorry…"

Only Claude and Hilda realizes her saying sorry is actually apologizing for feeding, and not just her usual tendency to apologize. Claude stops finding the situation funny upon seeing the water in the corner of Marianne's eyes.

"Good job Ignatz." Lysithea mutters, shooting a glare at him.

"I- uh- did I say something!?" Ignatz yelps, seeing the girl tearing up. He reaches out, only to stop short of actually touching her upon realizing he doesn't know if a touch would be welcome. "Sorry? Sorry!"

Marianne shakes her head. "N-No, it's n-nothing. D-Don't apologize. You d-didn't do anything..."

"Are you sure? Are you okay?" Ignatz frets. He musters up enough courage to lay a hesitant hand on her shoulder. "Is there something I can do? Do you want something?"

Marianne mutely shakes her head.

"Are you sure you're not tired?" Ignatz keeps asking. He wants to do _something_ to help. "You can lean on me if you want so you're not leaning on the wall…?"

Again, she shakes her head. The blue-haired girl looks a bit calmer now.

"Do you need a drink or something then? I-I have some in my canteen-"

"Stop bugging her!" Lysithea snaps again.

"It's fine, really." Marianne refutes quietly. She looks to Ignatz. "Really, I-I'm okay, you don't need to worry…"

"But you're clearly not!" Ignatz protests. He squirms in place and frowns slightly. "Marianne, you've been distracted all morning and you have bags under your eyes!"

Claude debates whether he should step in, but he wants to see how Marianne will respond first.

"I-I just… well…" Marianne fidgets with her necklace. "I'm… nervous."

"To what?" Ignatz frowns. "Ooh.. is it because we're doing a mission for your father?"

"Yes." Marianne sounds relieved. Claude knows what she just did. Marianne didn't have an answer prepared at all, she let Ignatz think up an answer himself and then just decided to roll with it. Clever.

"Don't be!" Raphael says with a wide smile. "We can handle this _easy_! We already had a mission dealing with demonic beasts, remember? Some big animals won't be a problem!"

"Ah… thank you…" Marianne nods. Her relief is enough to convince the others that the problem is resolved and they drop the issue. Claude and Hilda share another look, wondering how long everyone is going to buy that excuse.

###

The Golden Deer end up taking an unplanned detour when they come across a very rare and very dangerous creature attacking a farm entirely by accident. Normally Manticores were unique to the mountain range in the centre of Fodlan. It's strange to see them this far out.

Yes, _them_. Plural. There's two.

The family owning the farm had the good sense to hide in their house, but that leaves their livestock at the mercy of the manticores. Manticores are about twice the size of a cow, have spined tails that can be used as clubs or the spines can be fired as projectiles with quite the impressive rate of fire. Combine that with the usual claws and a jaw that can open large enough to fit a horse's body in it's mouth, and you have a creature that most people don't want to get within a mile of.

Oh, and they can _fly_. They're not particularly fast in the air like wyverns or pegasi, as manticores are not _primarily _arial creatures, but they're not clumsy, can shoot spines while flying, and are at least fast enough to keep up with someone running.

"Everyone out! Weapons ready!" The professor barks. Everyone piles out while Byleth ties the horses to a tree a fair distance away. The Deer eye the two manticores nervously. The creatures are currently feeding on a cow they killed, which at least allows the Deer to get close before getting noticed.

"Do we have a plan or something?" Leonie hisses.

"Kill them all." Byleth says simply.

"_How_ though?"

"With weapons."

"She means our tactics professor." Claude chuckles.

"Stay behind cover as much as you can. Hit and run. Melee fighters protect our ranged fighters and don't approach." Byleth says curtly. "That tail can hit all around it. Too dangerous to approach for most people."

"Aww…" Hilda pouts. She's the only person aside from Byleth who doesn't look worried. "Boo."

"You can throw things Hilda." Byleth says.

"Fiiiiine." Hilda swings her mordenkrad off her back and onto her shoulder. "I'm relying on all of you then~!"

Everyone scatters out in a loose semi-circle, hiding behind trees and a small shack as they prepare to fire.

"Ready." Byleth instructs. Claude and Ignatz draw their bows, and Lorenz, Lysithea, and Marianne prepare spells, all aiming for the closest manticore and Hilda prepares to throw her hammer at the other one. "Aim… fire!"

Two arrows stick into the first manticore's hide, unfortunately not seeming to do that much damage. Lysithea's miasma and Lorenz's fire are more effective, leaving dark burns on the thing's side, and nosferatu from Marianne does unfortunately negligible damage.

Hilda's hammer does what most of her attacks tend to do. It completely obliterates the second manticore, effortlessly punching a hole in its chest. The hammer skips off the dirt once, sending it far into a corn field where it knocks over several stalks before coming to a stop after making a fairly long furrow in the ground.

The surviving manticore doesn't take nicely to being shot, nor to having its companion killed. It roars. The noise sounds like a cross between a lion's roar and the wail of a banshee. It's loud and deep but also has a high-pitch screech incorporated into it. Its tail whips around, firing several spins at the Deer. Everyone ducks behind cover, and the spray of projectiles impacts the trees with a series of dull thudding noises. The spines that hit the shack actually snaps some boards clean off, and the flimsy wood isn't enough to fully stop all of them. Lorenz takes a hit to the arm, though the spine thankfully doesn't go too deep and falls out after losing momentum.

Marianne heals the wound easily, but the manticore doesn't stay still. It takes to the air and soars over the hiding place of those behind the shack. It's tail whips around again, sending a hail of spines raining down on them accompanied by an enraged roar. Lorenz, Marianne, and Lysithea scatter, trying to avoid the attack, but the wide spread of the attack means Lorenz takes a spine straight through the leg and Marianne is hit in the side of her stomach. Lysithea only avoids being hit on account of her small size.

Unfortunately Byleth can't do much in his current position. His daggers won't have much of an effect on the creature's thick hide. He moves out to protect his students though. He carries Lorenz to the cover of the trees to be healed and swats a few spines out of the air in a rather impressive display of timing and accuracy with his sword.

It's hard to return fire onto the manticore with how quickly it shoots its spines. Claude can snap a few shots, timing them for during the lull after the manticore shoots, but his arrows just don't have the power (or maybe just the abundance) to have an effect.

"Hilda! Why don't you just go punch it or something!?" Leonie hisses.

"I'm strong, not tough! And I can't jump that high!" Hilda huffs. "Well, I'm tougher than the rest of you, but not as tough as I am strong. Those spines would still turn me into a pincushion! If you want me to kill it, get me another hammer!"

"Just throw a tree or something!" Claude suggests.

"I don't think she's _that_ strong…" Leonie's voice trails off when she sees Hilda grab a large, meter-thick tree and rip it straight out of the ground. "Goddess above… what _are_ you?"

Hilda's muscles strain to carry the giant tree. This is near the upper limit of what she can feasibly lift, but lift she does. Rather than throwing it, she thinks better of that and just uses the tree as a giant club to swing at the manticore flying over them. It makes for an effective distraction, and the tree also acts as a nice shield against the spines the manticore tries to shoot.

Byleth makes use of Hilda's new weapon to do something else entirely. He leaps up onto the tree Hilda is holding, dashes up it, and uses the height afforded to him to leap off the top and onto the manticore's back when it makes another pass. He holds onto the creature's thick mane with one hand, and uses the other to repeatedly drive his sword into the thing's neck.

The manticore falls out of the sky and crashes into the forest canopy. It's orange mane snags on branches and twigs as it falls, tearing off clumps of fur and decorating it's path with small orange streamers.

Byleth is mostly fine when he crawls out from under the monster's carcass. His shoulder is dislocated from it hitting the dirt first when he landed, but that's an easy fix. He calmly rolls the joint back into place and chugs a vulnerary, and brushes off Marianne's worried healing.

Marianne's own wound, a cut to her stomach, will take a bit to heal because no one else knows how to heal, but at least she can use a vulnerary and it will be fixed by the night.

Lorenz isn't so lucky. The spine went right through his shin, and while Marianne can fix _most_ of it she doesn't have the energy to heal it all.

Except, she shouldn't be that incapable. Claude has seen hear heal more than this in a short span of time before. It can't be mana sickness either. This is the only time Lorenz has been healed today… so it must be Marianne's health that's the problem.

Magic takes effort to cast. Even faith magic. So, it stands to reason that if the caster is already tired before they start casting, then they won't be able to cast as much.

"_Well, that's problematic…_" Claude frowns. He watches Marianne profusely apologize, though she's swaying in place from lack of energy. She looks like she's going to fall over actually. "_So basically she can't heal because she needs to feed. That's awfully inconvenient and kind of unacceptable. We can't have our only healer incapable of healing because she doesn't keep herself as healthy as she should._"

Not that he _wants_ to make her feed more. He realizes she probably hates doing it, but at the same time they really can't risk someone _dying_ just because Marianne isn't feeding frequently enough.

So Claude finds himself in the awkward position of needing to confront Marianne not to try and help her, but because he needs to make sure no one _dies_.

"_What am I supposed to say?_" He grimaces. "'_Hey, can you just fuck someone so you can heal?' That's not going to go over well._"

He feels mildly embarrassed even thinking of saying that.

"_I should ask Hilda to do it, or maybe the Professor._" Claude thinks. "_No, not the Professor. Marianne would want as few people to know as possible._"

He grimaces and comes to a conclusion. He'll have to ask Hilda to handle it. Hilda is on better terms with Marianne than he is.

###

"You're kidding, right?"

"Unfortunately not." Claude says. Hilda scowls and he holds up his hands. "Look, I don't like it either, but I wouldn't insist on this if it wasn't necessary. This could actually be dangerous."

Hilda sulks for a few moments, but sighs and agrees to talk to Marianne. "I'm going to do it alone though, and somewhere no one else will hear! The last thing poor Mariianne needs is her secret being public knowledge."

"Hey, sure, as long as it happens." Claude agrees. "Sooner is better than later, if you don't mind."

The Professor calls an early lunch break after the battle, and they all share a meal with the farmers they saved (who make a surprisingly good local stew involving beef, a few vegetables, and some syrup made from sap. It's an oddly sweet soup, but that's what makes it unique).

Hilda finds Marianne after the meal is done and while Raphael and Byleth are helping repair the damage done to the shack. Marianne is already on her own, which makes this whole thing so much more convenient. She's over near the horses, who are still tied up on a tree a bit down the road.

"Heeey Marianne." Hilda says as she pokes her head around the side of the cart. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

"Oh… hello Hilda…" Marianne murmurs. She really looks exhausted, and Hilda doesn't miss how the girl is keeping one hand on the tree to stop herself from swaying. "I'm making sure the horses get fed…"

"Ah, right, great!" Hilda smiles, though it's a bit forced. She really doesn't want to have this conversation… "So, uh… there's something I need to talk to you about…"

"Wh-What is it?" Marianne's shoulders rise, and she shrinks in on herself a bit. "Have I done something…?"

"No, it's more what you _haven't_ done." Hilda sighs. "You weren't able to heal as much as you usually could today, right?"

"O-Oh… well yes…" Marianne is looking at the floor. "Th-That's because… um…"

"Because you haven't fed. I know."

Marianne's head snaps up so fast Hilda is worried she's going to hurt herself. "Wh-Wh-What!?"

"You haven't fed, right? That's why you're so out of it today." Hilda tries to remain calm. She leans casually against the wagon, trying to be as un-intimidating as possible. "Claude says it's irresponsible of you to hamstring your ability to heal like that by not feeding as frequently as you should be."

Marianne's face is a messy painting of multiple emotions. Mortification, embarrassment, fear, anxiety, panic… all the negative ones. "C-C-Claude knows too!?"

"Well yeah-"

"Oh Goddess help me…" Marianne hides her face in her hands. "I'm so s-so sorry…!"

"Sorry?" Hilda blinks. "Uh, hey, it's fine, you didn't know it would affect your healing, right? Just… feed more, I guess?"

"I can't do that!" Marianne moans. "I cause enough pain as is!"

"Uhh…" Hilda blinks. That's not the response she was expecting.

Marianne staggers a few steps away, backing into the trees. She has tears in her eyes which smudges the eye-shadow underneath them. "I'm sorry for being a monster! Pl-Please stay away from me!"

"Marianne, calm down, come back." Hilda tries to soothe. "I never said anything about you being a monster."

"I didn't want anyone to know!" Marianne says in response. Tears are actually coming out of her eyes now, and she starts blubbering in a very undignified manner. "I'm sorry for hiding it, b-but I was _told_ to hide it, a-and I j-just wanted to stay! I l-like being a-a part of the c-class! D-Don't kick me out!"

Hilda can feel the situation rapidly spiraling out of her control. She knows how to handle a lot of social situations, she knows how to handle Claude when he's being paranoid, or how to reassure someone when they're stressed, but this is one of the few situations she feels wholly unqualified to try and handle. It's not like she can ask someone else for help either. That would mean revealing Marianne's secret. The only person she could get help from is Claude, and his silver tongue doesn't extend to emotional reassurance. She's on her own here.

"No one said anything about kicking you out." She reassures. Hilda takes slow steps forward to try and close the gap between them. "No one is blaming anything on you. We just need you in top condition, alright? We've actually being trying to find a way to talk to you for a while for _other_ reasons. We've been… worried."

"I'm s-sorry for the b-blackouts! F-For making people t-tired! I t-try to keep it on the weekends!" Marianne rushes to explain. "I-I just don't want them to _remember_ what a monster I am!"

"Monster sounds like a bit of an overreaction…" Hilda says hesitantly. She's close enough that she can put her hands on the girl's trembling shoulders, and she does so. "Look, it's fine Marianne. Besides, only me and Claude know, we didn't go around telling everyone or anything."

"Oh…"

"But it's in his notebook! Don't even think about mind-wiping us!" Hilda huffs. The way Marianne suddenly looks away makes Hilda think the other girl might have been considering exactly that.

"H-Hilda…"

"Hmm?"

"What do I do...?"

"What do you mean?

"Wh-Who do I feed on?!" Marianne asks desperately. "I-I hate having t-to stalk a-and corner someone! I hate that I have to s-s-se… _assault_ someone! But I don't have a choice! Wh-What do I do!?"

"I don't have answers." Hilda grimaces. The way the faint hope in Marianne's eyes flickers out feels like a punch in the gut, like she's just killed the girl's dreams. It's only occurring to her now that Marianne must be desperate for help but since she can't talk to anyone about it she's never had the chance to ask until now. She just got shot down on her first chance to find help. "But I don't see what the problem is. Feeding is… sex, right? From what I'm aware it really shouldn't be that hard to find someone willing, heck, some guy _eager_ for it. It's not like your feeding is dangerous either right? There's no reason you couldn't just ask around."

Marianne shifts from heartbroken to red in the face. "I-I c-can't just go around asking random people! Th-Then people would th-think of me as a... as a…" She's unable to finish the sentence, being too mortified to say the last word, but Hilda gets the idea. "B-Besides, I don't do _th-that_… I feed the long way…"

Hilda raises an eyebrow. "The long way?"

Marianne nods. She doesn't elaborate on what that is exactly. "A-And… I paralyze whoever I f-feed on. I'm a _monster _Hilda… who would ever want that?"

Hilda shrugs. "I dunno, I can think of a few people who would probably be into it."

"H-Hilda!" Marianne shrieks. Her voice is shrill and hoarse.

"What? It's true. People, especially teenagers, are kinky." Hilda shrugs. "I remember this one time hearing Sylvain talk about how he was with this girl who was into-"

"Shhh!" Marianne claps a hand over the girl's mouth. Her face is furiously red and her expression is that of someone dying from embarrassment. "P-_Please_ stop!"

"Sorry, sorry. I just didn't want you to worry. It shouldn't be hard to find _someone_ who's into this 'long way'... uh… what _is_ the long way?"

Marianne looks like she wishes she could be anywhere else right now.

"_At least she's horrifyingly embarrassed rather than horrified at herself at the moment._" Hilda muses. "_I doubt she wants to be answering questions about her sort-of sex life._"

It's not as if Hilda isn't really embarrassed right now too. She's just better at hiding it.

Marianne shakily raises a hand and taps her lips. Then she says in an equally shaky voice "c-can we _not_ t-talk about h-how I feed?"

"Sorry, sorry." Hilda says. "Yeah, we can stop. It's just that you need to feed more frequently, and I was hoping to help you find a more comfortable way to do it."

Marianne looks away. "There's no _good_ way for me to do it. It will be horrible no matter what…"

"Oh come on. I thought I already told you that there's totally people who would be into it."

"Th-_That's_ not the problem!" Marianne yelps. "I d-don't want to feed on someone I don't k-know! It's scary…"

Hilda blinks rapidly. "Marianne… you're probably the second most dangerous person on campus behind myself, and I'm the girl who can break stone walls with her fists. You touch someone, even the slightest bit, and they are utterly in your control, _period_. It's not like you charms don't work from a distance either. You have _nothing _to be scared of."

In hindsight, basically telling her "Hey! You're scary as hell!" probably wasn't the best move, but thankfully it works.

"B-But it feels strange…" Marianne says nervously. "I-I feel worse d-doing it afterwards, but I also f-feel more comfortable feeding on people I sort of know…"

"Ahh, so that's why you go after Ignatz so much." Hilda nods sagely.

"H-How do you know that!?"

"Claude keeps a list of all the people who suffer feeding symptoms. He started keeping it before we knew it was you actually. It's part of how he figured you out." Hilda explains cheerily. "You know, you might be able to just _ask_ Ig and not wipe his memory, he'd probably be willing to-"

"Nooo!" Marianne shrieks and hides her face in her hands. "I- B-But- Then h-he'd _remember_!"

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Noooooo!"

"Ah, right… I guess it would be a bit embarrassing to have someone remember you giving them a blowjob."

Marianne's eyes widen in horror and her face blushes scarlet again. Her hands shake violently, and then she opens her mouth and yells: "I-I DON'T DO THAT!"

"Huh?" Hilda blinks. "But you did this when I asked you what the long way was." Hilda reaches up and taps her lips, just like Marianne did.

"Th-That means a _kiss_!" Marianne explains frantically.

"Ahh, okay. I assumed it was a blowjob." A smile creeps onto her face. "You know, putting the succ in-"

"THANK YOU, I'M GOOD NOW." Marianne says loudly, and tries to push Hilda away. Hilda has never seen Marianne try to be this forceful, and it's adorable. "I-I'll be sure to feed! I just need a spare hour."

"An _hour_?" Hilda blinks. "You have to kiss for an _hour_? Or is that just how long it takes the paralysis to wear off?"

"Yes, I have to do it for an hour… it takes about ten minutes for the paralysis to wear off…" Marianne mutters. "B-But the charm stays around f-for another hour and a half usually, and the exhaustion takes several hours to start to wear off…"

"Geeze…" Exhaustion, charm, and paralysis? Talk about overkill. It's not like Marianne has a choice _not_ to use them though. That's the bare minimum of what she can use on someone too. She could do _more_ if she put active effort into it. "Well, maybe we _should _wait until night then."

"Y-Yes…"

"An hour though…" Hilda whistles. "That _is_ kinky. Ig has no idea how lucky he gets sometimes, huh?"

Mianne buries her face in the horse's fur and doesn't respond. She spends a lot of time trying not to think about things like that, and this is _not_ helping.

* * *

**I guess my new goal is to embarrass Marianne to death?**


	11. Outnumbered but not Outmatched

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**Getting to the actual mission… and some more Marianne details. Considering the pace I've set for this story, I have to give out information in a fairly consistent stream.**

* * *

Hilda and Claude politely ignore how exhausted Ignatz is in the morning, and they don't comment on how Marianne's makeup can't quite hide how much more healthy she looks at the moment.

Then again, they're the only ones actually looking for signs in Marianne, so it's unlikely anyone else would have noticed unless Claude or Hilda chose to point it out.

Claude is delighted to have confirmation that his suspicions about Marianne were correct. He was already sure before, but having explicit confirmation from the source is always a plus. He's also surprised to hear exact how Marianne is feeding.

"It's not sex?" Claude murmurs in surprise when Hilda explains it. "Huh, well that explains why she's feeding so frequently. I guess her way is inefficient."

"Yeah, but better sexual assault than… you know…"

"Well that's a depressing way of putting it." Claude mutters, and rubs the back of his head in slight embarrassment. "But yeah, good point."

They can't talk for long about it in the morning. They have to exit their shared tent and pack up so the Deer can get a move on. They're heading out to a specific border village that has been ravaged by a pack of dire boar that arrived a week and a bit ago. Regular boars are already dangerous, so dire boars are a real menace.

Then again, dire animals in general are the sort of thing you need trained soldiers to deal with. Even a dire sheep is no joke if you piss it off (though thankfully dire sheep are not aggressive. If an animal is usually passive, it's dire form is not usually more aggressive). Dealing with a sounder of dire boar is usually what you'd get the town guard (if a town has one) or a mercenary company to deal with.

The dire boar are probably more dangerous than those bandits they had to deal with as their first mission. Heck, even those demonic beasts were probably less dangerous. The beasts spent as much time fighting each other as the Deer.

Claude can't believe he just thought that. The greatest threat he's dealt with to date… is a bunch of wild animals. Well, if you don't count that time he sparred with Hilda. Then the greatest threat he's dealt with is her.

Claude was fully expecting Hilda and Teach to be the ones who did most of the work for the mission, but when they arrive at the village and assess the situation, it's Lenoie who pulls more than her weight. With her knowledge of trapping she sets up some pit traps along the path the boar have smashed through the forest on their repeated visits. The traps won't deal with all the boars, but getting even a few of them out of the fight will be useful.

The fight with the boars is a dangerous one. Boars are nocturnal, and that means once again Claude is the only one who can properly see what's going on… and maybe Teach. He doesn't seem to need a light like the others. Everyone else is relying on firelight from torches either mounted beforehand or carried by one of their number.

For once, Raphael is not on the frontlines. For all his durability, a dire boar would completely maul him if he tried to stop a charge. The same goes for Hilda. She's tough, not invincible. It's Leonie who's standing out in front for the most part, and Claude and Byleth as well. They're the most agile and most able to dodge the boars, hopefully pulling their attention enough to slow them down and allow others the chance to strike.

That's not to say Claude is exactly happy about dodging giant animals twice his height as they barrel towards him at high speed. No, he hates it, but at least he has Hilda at his back to crush their sides in after he grabs their attention.

It's actually kind of disgusting. The boars have massive holes in the side of their bodies after Hilda is done with them with blood and guts all mashed together into a reddish pink paste with white bones sticking out.

Ugh…

"Two more!" Claude calls out to Hilda in warning. The pair of boars trot out of the forest towards the edge of the potato field, and Claude dances out in front of them. "Ready?"

"Yep!" Hilda shouts back. She hefts her gore-covered mordenkrad in preparation for another swing. Hilda probably can't see it because of the dim light, but Claude can see the blood and tufts of fur clinging to the hammer's face as well as a streak of blood on the left side of Hilda's face and in her hair from a particularly violent swing of her weapon that sent gore flying everywhere.

Claude draws his bow once he has the boars' attention and snaps a shot into the face of one. That's enough to anger the thing, if not to actually hurt all that much, and the creature snorts and rushes at him. The other one follows its pack member in the charge, and Claude very quickly has two angry dire boars bearing down on him.

Claude takes two steps back, then dives to the side when the boars are only a few meters away. The animals skid in the dirt as they try to stop their momentum and change direction, but that's all the opportunity Hilda needs. She storms in and whips her hammer in a quick overhead strike that tears a chunk out of the animal's side, killing it quickly, and whirls on the second one as it tries to rush her down. She catches it just in time with a swing to the side of its face, and the beast's head is knocked off and lands in the field as the body crashes into the dirt.

It's a disgusting sight. It's also a relief, because it means the boars are _super_ dead. There's still, like, ten more of the things to deal with, but these ones are dead.

"This must have been a big sounder." Claude mutters. "There's at least twenty of them."

"How does a group this big go unnoticed?" Hilda mutters. "Giant pigs that make huge paths through forests aren't exactly subtle."

"Well it's not like Margrave Edmund has been able to deal with the reports he's been getting." Claude reminds her. "He had to know about these ones or he couldn't have sent us here."

Hilda frowns. "He should have asked for help sooner."

"You know can't. There's too much politics in his way." Claude mutters. "He can't risk getting into the debt of another house. His position is already not that strong."

"I hate politics."

"Yeah, me too."

"More incoming!" Byleth warns.

"Ugh… alright, back into position." Claude mutters. "At least we're going to eat well for the next few days."

"Assuming the Professor doesn't let the villagers keep it all."

"Don't even joke about that."

"You know he might though."

"Yeah." And Claude will be mildly disappointed if he does. Fresh meat would be great after all the rations they've been eating the last few days.

Claude sighs and prepares for more boars, and Hilda skips back to her position. This is going to be a long night, and not just because of the boars. They're going to have to deal with the corpses straight away too…

###

Someone touches Claude's shoulder, and he frantically scrambles for his dagger in response. He then comes to his senses when he sees Hilda looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You know you're super paranoid, right?"

"I think we've established that already." Claude sighs. He sits up in his bedroll and stretches. "Ugh… I think I slept funny."

"Or you pulled a muscle from how fast you just got up." Hilda says, and pokes him in the shoulder. "You're supposed to stretch _before_ you move Claude."

Claude gives her a flat, unimpressed look. She smirks in return.

"The Professor said we're leaving in, like, ten minutes."

"Oh." Claude blinks. Then it sinks in what she said. "Wait, what? Why didn't you wake me earlier!? Did I miss breakfast?"

"Brunch actually, considering how long everyone slept in." Hilda says cheerfully. "And yes, you did miss it. We decided you were more tired than most of us considering you and the Professor let us go early while you both dealt with the last of the corpses and such."

"So we don't get to eat? Rude." Claude mutters.

"Oh shush." Hilda shoves a plate of food into his hands. It had been lying beside her. "Brunch was only half an hour ago, so the meat is still warm."

"So Teach _did_ keep some meat." Claude smiles. "How's it taste?"

"Stringy." Hilda admits. "Regular boar meat is better."

Claude takes a bite, considers it, and nods. "Yeah. Still, meat is meat."

"You sound like Raphael."

"Hey, I like meat at the moment because I haven't had any for a bit." Claude says through a mouthful of food. "Variety is the spice of life."

"Yeah yeah." Hilda says dismissively. "So anyhow, we're heading to visit Marianne's… father?"

"Relative." Claude grunts as he tears off more meat. "Not father."

"You figured that out from snooping?"

"Yep." Claude pauses. "Haven't we been over this before?"

"Maybe?" Hilda shrugs. "Your memory is better than mine. Maybe you just thought you told me and didn't? You've known for a while, right?"

"Yeah, I have."

"So either I forgot or you never told me." Hilda shrugs. "Whatever. Either way, we're going there."

"Right." Claude nods. "Better practice my political talk."

"What? Are you expecting him to suck up to you or something?"

"Maybe?" Claude shrugs. "Honestly I have no idea. I'd say there's a forty-sixty chance I get a hint for or an outright betrothal offer."

"Ahh…" Hilda grimaces. "Yeah, that could happen, couldn't it?"

"It's happened before, it'll happen again." He says. He raises his plate. "Cheers to being nobles. I bet Leonie, Ignatz, and Raphael don't have to deal with this."

Hilda rolls her eyes and knocks her hand against the side of the plate. "Woo. Fun. Still, at least we have the money that we're not worrying about food or something."

"Yeah." Claude says quietly. Leonie probably can't say that all the time. "Grass is always greener, huh?"

"I like to think it means _every_ position in life sucks. Some just suck more than others."

"I can agree with that."

They're both quiet for a few moments as Claude finishes his food. Then Hilda speaks up again. "Well that was depressing. Let's get going."

"Yeah." Claude puts the plate down and grabs his backpack. "I hope we can sleep in actual beds when we get there…"

###

"Everybody out! Weapons!" Byleth's voice barks from the front of the cart. Surprised and confused, the Deer pile out of the cart, grabbing and drawing their weapons as instructed. They can't immediately see the problem, but when Byleth comes rushing towards them away from the front of the cart yelling "Move, move!" they don't question it.

He leads them into the forest on the side of the road, and then instructs them to stop and keep low as they gather around him.

"What in the Goddess's name is happening here?" Lorenz huffs. "Professor, this better not be a bout of impromptu training."

"It isn't. We have company." Byleth whispers.

"He's not wrong." Claude mutters. While everyone else had kneeled down, Claude had taken the opportunity to quietly climb a tree. "Ooookay, that's quite a few of them. I didn't know highwayman gangs got that large."

"How many?" Byleth asks.

"I can see… uh… ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty five… thirty? Give or take a few."

"Holy shit." Leonie mutters in disbelief. "That's crazy."

"This is what happens when your entire military is focused on protecting one specific trade route." Hilda mutters. She glances back at their cart. "So what's the plan Professor? We're not just going to let them take our stuff, are we?"

"Do you think they're going to look for us?" Ignatz asks worriedly. "Do they know who we are?"

"I don't know." Byleth says honestly. "But we have to make a decision right now. We can fight a retreating battle, baiting them into rushing us and picking them off as we go, we can follow and harass them, or we can follow without them noticing and ambush them at a later time. Hands up for the first."

Raphael holds up his hand, as does Lorenz.

"Harassment?"

Two hands again. Leonie and Ignatz.

"Ambush."

Three hands. Claude, Hilda, and Lysithea. Marianne didn't contribute to any one of the options.

"Right then. Claude, you're taking point. I'm taking the rear guard." Byleth intruscts.

Claude didn't expect that responsibility to be shoved on him so suddenly, but he doesn't hesitate. "Right. Raph, Lorenz, Hilda, you're going to have to stay in the back. You all stand out too much. Leonie, follow behind me at a dozen paces. Sith, Marianne, a dozen steps behind her. Got it everyone?"

There's a quiet corus of acknowledgements.

"Right. Stay low, stay alert. Let's move."

Claude is pretending to be confident, but his mind is racing. This is all so sudden. How did these bandits sneak up on them without being noticed? How did _Byleth_ not notice them? He has very sharp eyes.

Maybe they were lying in wait, Claude considers. It doesn't matter now. They need to find a place to ambush these guys in return.

The bandits are currently all crowded around the cart and pulling out their various supplies to look at. Claude cringes when they open his pack and send his things scattering across the dirt. His notebook is there. His _notebook_! That's the most valuable thing he owns! He has secrets on a number of the students of Garreg Mach in there. That's genuinely dangerous information if it falls into the wrong hands!

Thankfully the bandits don't seem all that interested in the black, nondescript notebook lying in the dirt. They're more concerned with the pouches of money, the food stores, and what little jewelry the girls had in their bags.

Claude keeps his distance, watching from the trees. While most of the bandits are focused on the loot, there are a few that are keeping watch.

Thankfully the bandits don't seem bothered about the horses. There are a few of them keeping the animals as calm as possible. Some of the bandits actually have mounts. Maybe they were stolen from others before them?

The bandits also have a variety of members. Standard axemen, lancers, swordsmen, but also some archers, cavaliers, a single knight with cobbled-together armor, two mages, and someone Claude assumes is a healer.

That's quite the assortment, and it's also a problem. A varied enemy is harder to beat than a foe with only one strength you can plan around.

Claude's hands twitch. He wants the feeling of a bow in his hands, but now isn't the time. There are too many. He needs to think. How do you ambush a group this large? You wait for them to split up and take out one group at a time, split them up yourselves and divide and conquer if your individual strength is superior, make use of terrain (usually choke points), or wait until they're asleep. The last one will take a long time, so that's out of the question. So instead they need good terrain, because they don't have enough troops to effectively divide and conquer.

So Claude waits. He waits and watches as the bandits ransack their cart and toss everything to the dirt, ruining clothes and damaging tents and scattering hobby supplies at irrecoverable distances into the grass and dirt. Paints, beads, carving knives, thread, everything is tossed aside that the bandits don't care for.

Claude winces as a half-finished painting Ignatz was working on is considered, then dashed against a tree. "_They clearly don't know good art when they see it_."

To Claude's surprise, the bandits actually take the whole cart with them when they leave. That's _very_ unusual, and implies that they have a base of operations that can be reached on a relatively accessible path.

Which, again, says a lot about the state of highway security here if the bandits can have a stable path to their base large enough to fit a cart and they haven't been discovered and disposed of yet.

At the very least it means that they can follow the path and hopefully go on ahead of the bandits though. They find the path, move ahead of the slow-moving cart, and find their base before them. Hopefully they can find a place to set up an ambush along the way too.

Claude waves Leonie over and explains this to her, and instructs her to pass the information along. He waits a minute for confirmation that everyone understands, then starts to follow the bandits. After the bandits have crested the hill, Claude gives the instruction to scavenge whatever is left of their stuff. He'll keep watch until they're done.

There isn't much they can save. Mostly just books and notes that are damaged but not ruined. Everything else is mostly destroyed or soiled. Hilda has the presence of mind to scoop up Claude's notebook, for which he is quite thankful.

When everyone is done, they fall in behind Claude again and move on with their mission. It's easy to catch up with the bandits due to the slow pace of the cart. The Deer follow them for half an hour before Claude spies the path to the bandits' hideout branching off the side of the road. It's a rough path with packed down dirt, rocks poking out of the ground, and uneven terrain, but the trees have been cleared out of the way so it's still functional.

Claude waits for the bandits to start down the path so the Deer can safely cross the road. When everyone is across safely he picks up the pace and starts to push ahead of the bandits. Leonie seems to understand what's going on and keeps everyone away from the road, walking diagonal to Claude's position rather than directly behind.

Claude watches for a good ambush location, but he isn't finding one. There's a lot of trees, but no real choke points or anything. Claude was hoping for hills, or boulders, or _something_, but it's just trees.

So it's probably a good thing when they come across the bandits' base. You could mistake it for a caravan resting in the woods, and Claude now understands why they've been taking the carts. The carts are functioning as makeshift houses, and there's about a dozen of them. It looks like all the chopped trees have been turned into planks and lean-toos and what looks like some attempts at small log cabins.

They've got a proper mini village being built here. A village filled with violent assholes who raid travellers, but a village nonetheless.

Claude waves everyone else up and they gather around. Some of them are shocked to see the budding village in front of them. "Okay, I think we should split into three groups and search everything. If you find trouble, just yell. Leonie, Ignatz, and Marianne, Teach, Lorenz, Raphael, and me, Hilda, and Lysithea. Don't take too long. We've probably got half an hour until the main group arrives, and we need time to plan beforehand."

Byleth nods his agreement, and the groups split up to search. Claude's team handles the cabins. That's probably where the leader stays, or at least that's Claude's assumption. It makes sense that the bandit leader would get the best spot, right?

The first thing Claude sees when he opens the first cabin door is that the building is occupied. Not by a bandit, or at least Claude doesn't think it's a bandit. There's a woman in the building. She's in a dress that was probably once lovely, but is now torn and faded from wear and tear. She recoils in shock when Hilda swings open the door, and immediately cowers when Claude aims his bow her way. She doesn't even make a noise, instead staying totally silent as they move into the room.

Claude glances at Hilda and tilts his head towards the woman. Hilda nods her understanding and approaches the lady, and starts talking in whispers as Claude and Lysithea scour the building.

Claude finds a few things of note. There's a large cache of gold and jewels inside a locked chest that Claude managed to open with his lockpicking tools, as well as some women's jewelry that probably belongs to the women in the room. There's also a nice carpet on the floor, and generally everything in the room is of decent quality (if a bit dinged and scratched).

Claude doesn't actually take anything. If they win an ambush, they can come back and get everything later anyhow. Lysithea does the same. She understands the plan. They're looking for correspondences right now, some sign that these bandits are here on orders, and potentially useful things like weapons or vulunaries.

"Claude." Hilda's voice is low, bordering on angry. He glances up to see the woman clinging to Hilda's side. "Angie, that's her name, has been stuck here a while. A year at least."

Something in Claude's stomach turns. "Not a bandit?"

Hilda shakes her head. "She used to be a merchant until the bandits killed her husband and kids. She's been forced to be the lead bandit's 'wife' so to speak."

"Ah." Claude can read between the lines. "Right. Well, she can obviously come with us for now. She should probably stick with Teach."

"Got it." Hilda nods. She leads the shaken women away to find the Professor, and Claude and Hilda move on to the next building. They find a cool sword, a brave sword by the look of it, but it's damaged and nearly broken. Brave weapons are powerful but also very fragile, requiring special training to use. One of the bandits probably tried to use it and messed up, resulting in the damage.

In about seven minutes everyone gathers in the center of the village. Some of the Deer shoot curious glances at Angie, but for the most part she's ignored. "So? What'd you find?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing useful."

"Well we didn't find anything much aside from Angie." Claude sighs. "At least we know there's no other bandits here. Now we have to set up a trap. Leonie, how long would it take you to-"

"Too long." Leonie interrupts. She knows what was going to be asked. A pit trap is too time consuming.

"Right then." Claude mutters. "Teach? I think this is more up your alley."

"This is going to be a hard fight." Byleth says bluntly. "We're outnumbered, so likely we're going to have to do a fighting retreat and chip away at their numbers. If we stay still, we _will_ get overrun."

That doesn't reassure Claude, but Byleth didn't say they couldn't _win_, just that they'd have to keep moving.

"What about Angie?" Raphael asks. "She can't be near the fight, right?"

"That's right." Byleth nods. "Could I trust you to protect her while we fight? You'll have to stay in the back, along with anyone else who gets injured if Marianne isn't around."

"I can do that!" Raphael says cheerfully.

Claude silently nods. Raphael is powerful, but it will be hard for him to run away. He's a large target and easy to follow. In a straight-on fight he's invaluable, but in a retreat he's a problem.

"You're going to have to stay far away and wait for the rest of us." Byleth warns. "Wait down the path. When we fight, we'll try to draw them away into the forest behind these buildings."

Raphael nods eagerly. Angie seems cautious about the boy, but his cheerful smile is already winning her over by the time they've reached the forest edge.

"Alright everyone." Byleth says. "Here's the plan. We're going to have to work like we did with the boar. The quick ones of us are going to have to go up front and play distraction while the others hit from a range. When they get too close, fall back and repeat the process. Understood?"

Everyone nods mutely. Even Lorenz and Lysithea have no quips to offer. The fight with the boars was bad, this is going to be even more difficult. Boars are animals, predictable. Bandits aren't exactly known for their intelligence, but they're still smarter than animals.

Well, usually.

"We're going to split into two groups. Claude leads one, I take the other." Byleth says. "Claude, Hilda, Marianne, and Ignatz, and me, Lysithea, Leonie, and Lorenz."

His justification for giving them the only proper healer is "your group doesn't have me". Which is fair enough. Also, Lysithea has been learning to heal, so it's not like Byleth's group is completely without healing.

With three out of four of each of their groups having some ranged capability (Leonie having taken up the bow) the two groups take up positions on either side of the path in preparation to fire on the brigands when they walk by.

It's a longer wait than Claude expected, nearly forty five minutes in fact, but the brigands arrive eventually. Both groups pause, wait for the front part of the group to be between them, then let their projectiles fly and flee into the forest. Shouts and curses follow them as well as a few poorly-aimed arrows, but none find their mark. Claude glances at Hilda and jerks his head to the side. Hilda gets the message and drags Marianne and Ignatz in one direction while Claude splits off in the other.

The brigands that followed them split off appropriately, sending a dozen people after Hilda's group and only three after Claude.

Perfect.

After a minute of chase Claude whirls around, skids to a stop while aiming, and snaps a shot into one of his pursuers. It sinks into the man's thigh, which is good enough for him. It sends the man tumbling to the dirt, and one of his companions stumbles over him.

One of his pursuers is an archer who is drawing an arrow at him. Claude drops his own arrow upon seeing this and snaps his fingers at him, summoning his orb of darkness right in the man's face. The moment's confusion is all Claude needs to draw another arrow and sink it into the archer's neck.

With one of his companions dead and the other crippled, the last brigand tries to run. Claude sinks two arrows into their back and they go down. Claude gazes at the last man trying to crawl away for a second before shooting him in the head to end his misery.

With those three down, Claude goes to assist Hilda and the others.

###

Ignatz is fairly sure this wasn't part of the plan. Claude splitting off was his plan, but he and Marianne splitting from Hilda definately wasn't. Granted, they were getting overrun and Hilda couldn't protect them from so many foes, so it made sense to split up, but that doesn't mean he feels comfortable about it.

While Hilda stood to fight, he and Marianne kept running (as Hilda ordered them to). Judging by the shouts of "Oh Goddess!" behind them Ignatz would guess that Hilda took out a least a few of them.

That sounds like a tree being pulled being pulled out of the ground. Maybe Hilda will just take out _all_ of them.

Of course that's too good to be true, but Ignatz can hope.

Marianne is silent as Ignatz leads her along. Her grip on his hand is surprisingly strong. A bit more surprising is when she suddenly pulls him to the side and out of the way of a fireball that roars through the spot he was just occupying.

Ignatz has never been so happy that mages can sense magic, because he's fairly sure Marianne didn't look behind them before making that dodge.

Ignatz pulls his bow out, but with his nerves he fumbles his first arrow. He's used to having someone between himself and his foes! He's never been the target! Having people charging and yelling at _him_ is terrifying.

Marianne is quicker in her response. Her hands come up and the sickly white light of Nosferatu flashes in the air. The mage following them flinches as the tendrils of the spell dig into his flesh, but mages have always had decent resistance to magic so it's not as impactful as they hoped.

The mage isn't their only pursuer though. There's at least five more people beside them. Ignatz finally gets his act together and manages to take a shot. It's a good shot too, the mage now has an arrow through their heart.

Ignatz backpedals while shooting more arrows, but even with his accuracy not all of them find their marks. This is where fighting in a forest is a disadvantage, because sometimes random branches or tree trunks block shots that would otherwise land.

Marianne scrambles back when one of the brigands gets too close with his axe, and Ignatz hastily shoots at the man to try and protect the girl as she runs behind him. It's not a kill shot though, he only hits the man in the shoulder. The axeman turns his attention towards the small boy with burning eyes and charges with a roar. Ignatz makes another shot, but this one misses entirely in his haste.

He doesn't have time to move away. He falls to the floor to avoid a hefty swing of the man's axe, and he knows that he won't be able to avoid another. The man raises the axe high with his one good arm and-

"STOP!"

_Everyone _freezes. Ignatz, the axeman, the two other surviving brigands, all of them. To Ignatz it feels like someone dug their fingers into his brain and _pulled_. His body feels paralyzed, and judging by the stiffness of the axeman standing over him he's suffering from the exact same thing.

Ignatz can't even bring himself to speak, and blinking takes physical effort. All he can do is breath and listen to the footsteps behind him.

The footsteps in question end directly behind him, and Ignatz is nervous. What's going on? Why can this person move? Who exactly-?

Hands slip underneath his shoulders and Ignatz is pulled to his feet. The contact breaks the paralysis and he scrambles to get his legs under him and stand properly. He tries to turn his head to see who exactly it is, but one of their hands grabs the bottom of his jaw and keeps his gaze fixed forward and away from them.

"Please don't look." Even with a weird, whispering echo to her voice, Ignatz can recognize Marianne. In hindsight it makes a certain amount of sense, she was the only other person here, but what's going on? How is her voice paralyzing everyone?

Her touch also feels… strange. Warm and soft and it makes him feel a bit weak. It's a weird feeling. Maybe an inappropriate feeling? It does feel nice…

Ignatz squeezes his eyes shut for a second. Now is not the time to be thinking about that. "Wh-Wh-Whaaaa?" He can't even get words out of his mouth properly with the paralysis he's under.

"It's fine." Marianne murmurs. She doesn't sound happy, but her voice is surprisingly calm. "You can relax."

It's like she's extinguished a candle. Ignatz's muscles just… give up. He collapses backwards against her, and the only reason he doesn't collapse into the dirt is because Marianne is physically holding him up with one arm.

Ignatz can see Marianne reach out her _other_ arm out to the brigand still standing frozen in front of them with his axe raised. The man jerks into motion, looking for all the world like a giant puppet moving stiffly on strings.

Ignatz can't see _exactly_ what happens. His eyes are firmly fixed forwards after all. He can see the brigand walk past him, hear a muffled "Mph!", and then a minute later the brigand falls to the floor… except he doesn't look the same.

Where the brigand once had muscles, he now looks… emaciated. His flesh is taunt on his body, and his bones sharply poke against the skin. His skin is also deathly pale, and his eyes have rolled into the back of his head.

He doesn't seem to be breathing. The man is now just a pile of bones and skin lying in the dirt.

The other brigands, still frozen in place, wear visible expressions of horror… but when Marianne reaches out her hand again and whispers "you…" to one of them, he too stumbles forward like the obedient puppet he's forced to be.

One by one Marianne beckons the brigands forwards, and one by one they fall to the floor looking like someone stuck a straw into their body and sucked out their life. Soon, it's only him and Marianne left alive, surrounded by corpses sucked dry of life force.

Ignatz stares at the corpses. Marianne's voice drags his attention off them. It still has that odd, quiet echo to it that tickles his ears. "Are you hurt?"

"I-I-" His voice still isn't working properly. He needs to pull himself together. "F-Fine…"

"Good." She hooks her other hand under his other shoulder to help him stand properly. On shaky legs Ignatz manages to make himself stand again. When Marianne removes her hands he wavers, but stays upright.

He's shaken by this whole ordeal. He's had people try to kill him, and gotten closer than they ever had before, and he just saw… or rather _didn't_ see Marianne drink the life out of four people.

He should really be considering what that means. What does that mean? Was that a spell? Can Marianne do that normally? Should he be worried?

No, that's mean of him to think. Regardless of what Marianne might be, she still got him out of certain death.

"Ignatz…"

A shiver goes down his spine on hearing his voice whispered. This is not normal, there's no way this is normal. Ignatz doesn't know anything about charm magic, but he would bet his life savings charm magic is involved right now.

Ignatz then makes the mistake of turning around, and his breath leaves his body in a rush. Marianne looks exactly the same, except there's _something_ else. Ignatz couldn't say what it is, he doesn't exactly know. Maybe it's charm magic, it's probably charm magic, and Ignatz doesn't exactly feel comfortable with how it is encouraging him to oogle the girl in front of him.

Marianne shifts from foot to foot, unsure how to handle this. Does she wipe his memory? This is a really bad time for that. No, she can't do that now. Hilda already knows about her, as does Claude, but Ignatz is her main feeding target. Him knowing about her would mean she either has to find another main feeding target or accept having Ignatz be aware that she's feeding on him (which is embarrassing and horrifying for obvious reasons).

She can deal with this later. They need to go help Hilda. "Don't tell anyone what I am, alright? We can talk later."

"Okay." Ignatz squeaks. He knows he probably shouldn't stare, but it's impossible not to. Mentally he's trying to figure out what Marianne is. It doesn't take him long. He doesn't know a whole lot about other species, but succbi are infamous and their abilities well-known. It only takes him a minute of thought to figure it out. "_Oh wow, so that's what it feels like to be under a succubus' power… that's…_" Terrifying? Fascinating? Both?

On the other hand, Ignatz suddenly has a few ideas for paintings.

"In the meantime…" Marianne takes two steps forwards, looks him dead in the eyes, and lightly grabs his face. "_Focus_."

Ignatz can feel a physical change. The shaky, nervous feeling in his limbs is abruptly pushed into the back of his mind, his eyes feel sharp, and his fingers are steady as he picks up his bow again. It's weird to think that Marianne just _ordered_ his body to focus and it instantly complied, bypassing his own will entirely.

Not that Ignatz thinks this is a bad idea. Considering how shaky he was, forcing him to focus is probably a good thing. He doesn't want to miss another shot because he's panicking.

Marianne puts her necklace back on, and whatever charm magic is forcing Ignatz's gaze to stay fixed on her is suddenly gone. With the addition of one piece of jewelry, she's normal Marianne again.

She turns her head away from him. "C-Can you stop staring…?"

Ignatz jumps and turns around as quickly as he can. His voice is squeaky. "I- uh- right! Okay! Let's go find Hilda!"

###

Claude finds Hilda in the middle of a clearing that he's fairly sure wasn't there before. There's also a lot of stains and bone fragments in the dirt, showing the evidence of Hilda's work. The girl herself has a few cuts and an arrow in her hip, but a concoction patches that up until they can find Marianne… and that doesn't take too long.

Something clearly happened between Marianne and Ignatz though. They each keep glancing at each other and looking away a moment later. Marianne is fiddling with her necklace and Ignatz with an arrow.

There are other priorities though, they have to meet up with the other group. Back to the makeshift village with them.

The other group finds them partway back, having disposed of their foes much quicker. Lorenz is sporting a bandage around his arm, and Leonie is limping, but it's nothing serious that healing magic can't fix.

And fix everyone Marianne does. In the meantime though, Claude can oddly smell what he thinks is the remains of a fire. Did someone get hit with a fire spell? No one seems to have any burnt clothing.

"Did someone take out the leader?" Claude asks quickly.

"I did." Byleth says flatly. "He was easy."

That almost feels like an insult considering how much difficulty the rest of them had, but Byleth rarely seems to think before he speaks, so it's probably not intended to be one.

"So then…" Claude says slowly. "What are we going to do with all these carts?"

Everyone gazes at the carts. Some are definitely still functional, but there aren't enough horses to pull that many.

"Well at least we can probably fit everything important into our cart." Lysithea offers. "We have a lot of storage space."

"That's true." Claude muses. "Do we just bring everything important to the next village and tell them about this place?"

"I guess." Hilda shrugs. "What other choice do we have?"

Well there are other choices, just none of them that Claude considers practical.

So they take half an hour to pack everything they can take into their cart while Leonie goes and fetches Raphael and Angie. Within two hours, they're on their way again.

* * *

**Okay, this took a while. Hope you like it! You can tell I'm really pushing the Marianne plot line right now. Also was trying to show why succubi are considered so terrifying in this chapter.**


	12. Edmund

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**Keeping on keeping on. Plot marches forwards! Er, well, as much plot as there is in this little side-story. More world-building than plot really.**

**Whatever. The story moves on, let's go.**

* * *

Angie is dropped off at a nearby village with a few dozen gold to help her, and the villagers are told about the bandit camp so they can scavenge from it, but the Deer unfortunately can't stay around. They're already behind schedule for meeting Margrave Edmund, and might need to stay an extra day on the road because of the time taken to kill the bandits. Claude doesn't expect Margrave Edmund to mind particularly. He doesn't know too much about the man, but as far as nobles go he's on the more rational side. He has all the usual issues like supporting arranged marriages and getting caught up in petty territory squabbles, but he's not known for being particularly petty otherwise.

That said, Claude has personally interacted with the man maybe once, and that was at a social function, so his image of the man might be completely off. Margrave Edmund is also a bit more private than most margraves and lords in the Alliance, and so Claude actually doesn't know too much about him or his family, immediate or extended. He wasn't even aware Marianne existed until she showed up at Garreg Mach. Claude found a bit of information on past Margraves of Edmund, but Marianne's parents? Extended family? Nothing.

Byleth intelligently hires someone to ride ahead of them and deliver a message to Margrave Edmund explaining their delay. That's something that should have been obvious, but Claude never considered it. He never really got used to technically being the heir to the Alliance. Using messengers instead of just finding someone, fancy food, not paranoidly hiding everything valuable to you… he never really adapted to it before he went off to Garreg Mach.

Anyhow…

Everyone is tired. Some people are pretending not to be tired, like Lysithea and Hilda (actually… Hilda might not be tired considering her general physical competence. Lysithea is totally faking though) while others don't bother to hide it. Raphael is already asleep in the corner of the cart. Despite what you might expect, he doesn't snore. Not loudly at least. Leonie isn't sleeping, but she is resting with her eyes closed.

Ignatz is clearly tired, but he seems to be pointedly _avoiding_ going to sleep. The same goes for Marianne. They're also shooting glances at each other, which makes Claude fairly sure something happened when they split off from Hilda. He desperately wants to pry, this could be useful, this could be interesting! He holds himself back though. He knows better to interfere. Besides, with everyone in the cart this would be a terrible time to converse with Marianne.

He has to hold himself back from eavesdropping when Marianne pulls Ignatz aside after they set up camp for the night. He desperately wants to listen in. This looks important, it has to be important! Marianne fed last night, she doesn't need to again. This has got to be important…

"Claude…" Hilda sighs.

"But it is, right?" He whispers. "Right?"

"Maybe, but seriously, stop thinking about it." The girl huffs. "It's a private conversation Claude, and probably a personal one. Don't make yourself curious about an answer you won't get."

Hilda is right of course. Claude knows she's right. Still, he's always had a need to know anything he possibly can about everything. This might be important too! This could be vital to Marianne getting over her issues…

Hilda pokes his cheek. "Claude."

"Fine…"

"Good. Let's play a game or something."

Claude knows what she's trying to do. She's trying to distract him. He really doesn't deserve Hilda. "I have chess."

Hilda sighs again, this time in resignation. "Well, let's see how many times I can lose in an hour then, shall we?"

###

Ignatz has a vague idea that he might be in trouble when Marianne pulls him aside. Not that his life is in danger or anything, just that he's stumbled across a sensitive secret that maybe he shouldn't know.

He's been worrying about this since he stepped into the cart. He was sitting next to Marianne for hours, unable to discuss this extremely sensitive bit of information he'd accidentally learned. He's been mulling it over in his mind too. Marianne is a succubus. A _succubus_. One of the most feared creatures in the modern day, the sort of being that parents warn their kids about and the sort of accusation levied by fearful villagers at people they don't understand as if it's a justification for shunning them.

Burn the witch who blighted my crops, kill the succubus who seduced my son. Those inhuman monsters. That sort of thing. The sort of stuff Ignatz could never buy into because he _isn't_ human. He's a halfling. By most people's standards that's basically human. Even by human standards he's basically human. Halflings are one of the most welcomed species in human society besides humans themselves because of how similar and "non-threatening" halflings are. But still he _knows_ he's not human. People don't want to acknowledge that fact, and just like to treat him as "human but short", and that's fine under most circumstances but it's irritating all the same. It's like people don't _want_ to acknowledge that he isn't technically human, as if being not human is somehow a negative thing.

So basically he can empathize with Marianne. Granted, she must have it so much worse than him by an astounding margin, but he can empathize all the same. Not being human in a human-centric society is an unfortunate hassle.

Ignatz is well aware that empathy is _not_ equivalent to trust though. Marianne has every reason to distrust him. Knowledge of her species is the sort of thing he could probably use to get her disinherited, or outright killed if he wanted to. Not that he would, but… that's the sort of information you don't want anyone to know. It's _dangerous _information.

So, when Marianne pulls him aside later that day, Ignatz is worried. He doesn't expect he's going to die or anything, but… he doesn't know what _will_ happen. Is he going to be threatened? Mind wiped? Mind _controlled_? Succubi can do that, right? That's what whispered tales always say, but those sorts of things are unreliable. She certainly managed to puppet his body like it was nothing before.

As it turns out, Marianne doesn't have a plan at all. She drags him aside, and then immediately starts fretting about what she should be doing.

"Y-You can't know what I am." Marianne mumbles to start the conversation. She isn't looking at him. She's pacing back and forth with one hand clasped to her necklace and the other clenched against her stomach. "It's not safe. Not for me. I'm sorry…"

"I understand, I think." Ingatz offers. He glances over his shoulder at the fire of the camp, a few dozen meters away with everyone just out of earshot. The sun is lowering in the sky, but it's not down. No one is looking at them, though Claude is vaguely gesturing in their direction before Hilda pulls him into their shared tent. "It's dangerous for you, right? What you are isn't exactly… welcome."

"Yes." She nods twice, rapidly, nervously. "I'm dangerous, a threat, and so people would be afraid of me if they knew."

That's… not quite how Ignatz would put it. More accurate to say, in his mind, _others_ would see her as dangerous. "You don't seem dangerous to me."

"You're wrong then." She retorts. Marianne turns her back to him. "I _am_ dangerous. You know what succubi do, right?

"You usually have powerful natural charm magic and a variety of secondary magic powers," Ignatz says, trying to remember traits mentioned in reliable sources. He can't remember much, so he sticks to the general facts he can be confident in mentioning. "You have to hide from general society because you're _considered _dangerous due to the fact that your species evolved to be really competent at hunting and preying on humans, and are reproductive parasites."

"Well yes." Marianne says tersely. Her hands are still clenched, and Ignatz realizes his response was not at all what she was looking for. "But what do we _do_?"

"...whatever people normally do?" Do succbi not farm or something? Maybe they've never had artists? What is he missing?

"We _feed_."

"Oh!" Of course that's what she meant. How could he forget something so obvious? But… erm… "So you _do_ do things that normal people do then, just with this extra task every once in a while, right?" Ignatz still doesn't quite see the problem. So succubi have to feed which is having sex right? Okay, so she has to do it at least once a month. How is this a problem? Is it because she's under eighteen? She literally has to feed or she _dies_, right? Ignatz would hope that would be understandable. Is it dangerous maybe? Ignatz doesn't know about succubi feeding, and honestly he'd have been too embarrassed to look into it before. Though maybe he should look into it when they get back to Garreg Mach… and just read up on Succubi in general.

"Noooo." Marianne whines. "We _prey_ on people! We hunt them down, corner them, and assault them against their will!"

Ignatz frowns. It's almost like she's intentionally choosing to portray her species as poorly as possible. "I mean, I know some succubi probably do that. Some people aren't that nice, but-"

"_I_ do that!" Marianne says. Her tone is hard to place. She sounds horrified at herself, but at the same time forceful, as if she wants to insist that he believe her words. "I do that regularly! Every week! I find someone who I can corner and feed on them." Her eyes catch his. Her stare is intense and… desperate. Ignatz doesn't know what to think. Is she looking for help? Is she _trying_ to get him to hate her? What is she desperate for? "I do it to _you_, regularly!"

That brings Ingatz's racing mind to a crashing, burning, destructive halt. Him? Regularly? She _feeds_ on him, regularly? That's…

A shiver goes up his spine, and his stomach clenches. A grain of fear manifests in the back of his mind, but Ignatz pushes the feeling down. This is different. He's dealing with someone who has wronged him, but he needs to stay calm. He knows (or at least suspects) Marianne is trying to make herself look bad, so he needs to be the logical one here.

"What do you mean Marianne? You feed on me?" Ignatz says slowly. "How, exactly?"

"Most of the time I find you painting somewhere." She murmurs. "And I pull you aside. Sometimes into a room, sometimes just an out of the way spot, and I feed."

On it's own that seems straightforward, but the odd thing is that Marianne taps her mouth when she says feed. That's not exactly sex, is it?

Ignatz is steadfastly ignoring his own embarrassment that he's thinking about sex in relation to Marianne. He pushes that out of his mind. "_Focus, that's rude._" He thinks. "Erm, why are you tapping your mouth?

"I-" She's suddenly flustered and looking away from him. "That's how I feed. I… I… _kiss _people."

Suddenly Ignatz doesn't feel quite as violated. "I didn't know you _could_ feed like that."

"It's the long way." She mumbles. "The normal way is the short way, but I don't want to do _that_ because it's even worse than the long way. I have to do it more often though."

"Well that's not so bad." Not great, but that's fine all things considered. It's not like he remembers it anyways, and beyond some blackouts and exhaustion (which he assumes must be from feeding) he's not suffered any real harm.

"I have to do it for an _hour_." Marianne adds with surprising force. "Against your will."

"I understand." Ignatz says gently. "But you also wipe my memory, right?"

"Yes!" She nods fervently. "I do! I take away your memory so my deeds are not revealed."

"And so that I don't remember anything that might make me worry, right?"

"Well…"

"Because you don't want me to worry, right?"

"Well yes…"

So, while what Marianne does is certainly creepy and dubious from a moral standpoint, it's also obvious to Ignatz she's gone out of her way to minimize the impact of her feeding on her victims as best she knows how to. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit."

Marianne flushes red with eyes wide in surprise. She catches herself a moment later and tries to restate what he suspects must be a self-reminder. "I'm not a good person Ignatz."

"I respectfully disagree. You're a normal person with an unfortunate burden that you don't quite know what to do with, but you've tried to do as little harm as possible."

Marianne looks more uncomfortable now then when she was admitting her sins. Somehow getting _praise_ is more uncomfortable for her than revealing something bad she's done. That seems very sad to Ignatz, and just a little bit worrisome.

"Look, I know you might be uncomfortable with someone remembering you fed on them, but if you don't have an _unwilling_ victim it's not a problem, right?" Ignatz says hesitantly. He's feeling a little embarrassed too. "So, erm… if you need a willing… _meal_… I'll volunteer. That way you don't have to assault someone unwilling."

The "and don't have to feel bad about yourself" is implicit, but Ignatz hopes that sentiment comes through anyhow.

"Please don't call yourself a meal." Marianne whines. She just seems mortified now. She puts her face into her hands. To her, Ignatz is being far too forgiving and generous. "Oh Goddess I can't believe I'm not wiping your memory…"

"Sorry?" He replies with a nervous smile, feeling equally embarrassed. "Uh, I'm glad to help though…"

Marianne says something indistinguishable, muffled by her hands. But Ignatz will silently admit that her embarrassed mumbling is rather adorable.

###

Surprisingly, Margrave Edmund meets them personally at the gates when they arrive just before lunch the next day. The Deer silently exchange looks, asking who is going to deal with this. Claude? The Professor? Marianne?

The Margrave solves that issue for them. "Lord Von Reigan, I'm glad to see you've all managed to make it here unharmed despite your unexpected delay."

Claude shifts into formal mode. He's gotta act his part as heir to the alliance. "Sorry again for the delay, Margrave, but we couldn't let such a situation stand. I hope you'll pardon our lateness."

"Of course. I appreciate you taking your time to help the people of Margrave." The man says. He gives Claude a half-bow, bending at the waist. He nods to Byleth as well. "Thank you for teaching Marianne, Professor."

"Of course." Byleth says flatly. His expression is neutral, as normal. He seems perfectly content to let Claude handle this. That's probably a good idea to be honest. Byleth is not graceful in social situations to say the least. Who's to say if Byleth knows that though, or if he's blissfully unaware of his social incompetence.

"And Marianne… it is good to see you again."

Marianne bows silently.

"Come in, all of you. I'll have the cooks make lunch."

"Oh good, I'm starved!" Raphael says cheerfully. "Thanks Sir!"

The Margrave smiles politely. Claude wouldn't be surprised if he's going to slip a word to the cooks to make extra after seeing Raphael.

Everyone settles in around the large table. Some people look at home in this sort of situation like Lorenz, Claude, Hilda, and Lysithea who have dealt with this all their lives. Raphael also looks comfortable, but it would be easier to list the situations where he isn't comfortable. Ignatz and Leonie are clearly not used to this and are mildly unnerved by the huge room and massive fancy table, and Marianne is also uncomfortable though the exact reason is anyone's guess.

Byleth, as usual, looks indifferent.

Margrave Edmund sits at the head of the table. Marianne is on one side, and Byleth at the other. The room is uncomfortably quiet as food is set out on the table. The silence is broken when Raphael cheerfully says his thanks and starts to dig in, at which point everyone manages to relax just a bit and enjoy themselves.

The Margrave makes some small talk at the table, and it's mostly up to Marianne and Claude to answer him. He doesn't ask for a report yet, instead preferring small talk. How is their school work going, what are they learning, are they taking care of themselves? That sort of thing. It's what you might expect a polite family member to ask.

Inevitably though, at least in Claude's mind, the subject he was dreading comes up. It's not addressed to him, but the mood at the entire table shifts in a negative direction when they hear the Margrave ask: "Marianne, have you given any thought to the marriage proposals I've sent to you? Or perhaps you've found someone at the academy?"

The fact that he feels comfortable bringing it up in the presence of company says much about how normal and casual the Margrave thinks the subject of arranged marriage is.

"Ah, well…" Marianne mumbles, and stares at her food. "There is no one at the academy so far. The men in your proposals have been… unsatisfactory."

The Margrave doesn't seem offended. In fact, he nods. "I see. I shall trust your critical eye on the matter. That said, what exactly was unsatisfactory?"

"Age, demeanor, personal histories." Marianne says softly. To Claude it almost sounds rehearsed, but there is some genuine emotion in her voice suggesting that she's not exactly lying. "Many of the men were _unpleasant _when looked into, and the rest were too old."

The Margrave nods. "You're being very thorough I see. I shall not push the matter then. So long as you are giving appropriate consideration, I have no qualms in how long the process takes."

Claude feels conflicted. On one hand, he hates that the Margrave supports arranged marriage, on the other… the Margrave really doesn't seem like a bad person. There aren't many heads of houses willing to let their _heir_ of all people take so long in choosing a partner, let alone give them so much control and choice during the process.

It's a shame really. Claude wants to like the man, but he just can't. Combined with the Margrave's poor handling of his realm's security and Claude's opinion is mixed to say the least.

The Margrave's eyes turn to Claude, and he subtly sits up straighter. "How about you, my Lord? Have you given any thought, or has your Uncle delayed the matter? You are getting to age, are you not?"

"Uncle, please…" Marianne murmurs, but her voice doesn't carry.

"I'm giving it appropriate consideration." Claude says calmly. "However, my uncle and I have agreed my education must come first so that I may be fit to lead the Alliance. Marriage is a secondary concern at the moment."

Margrave Edmund nods. "A wise decision."

What Claude isn't telling him is how he fought with his uncle for months to be able to come to Garreg Mach. They didn't come to an agreement so much as Claude blackmailed the man into letting him go, lest he expose some of the man's skeletons from his closet. It helped that his uncle knows negative opinions on himself don't really translate to Claude, because most nobles already don't like Claude so a little scandal more or less really doesn't affect the boy as much as it does him.

Claude is also very done with this conversation, and is immensely thankful when the subject changes.

The meal is otherwise uneventful. Privately recounting the events of their travels to the Margrave after the meal is similarly uneventful. The man nods grimly at the account of the bandits, and Claude has the feeling that the Margrave is well aware of his security issue.

"Thank you for dealing with them." The Margrave says, after Claude is done. "I'll give you additional compensation for it."

"Thank you." Claude bows. He wants to admonish the man for his poor security, but stepping on toes is not going to be helpful right now. "I'm glad the Deer could be of help."

The Margrave nods. "If you would, please send Marianne in when you exit."

"Of course."

###

"Marianne."

"Uncle."

"I hope you've been well."

"I have."

"No one has caused you issues?"

"No, they haven't."

"And your secrets? They've been kept?"

Marianne squirms. "The only person made aware of my secrets was Professor Hanneman, as he is an expert on crests and knowledgeable about many species."

"Ah, the ghost of Garreg Mach." Margrave Edmund nods. "A prudent choice. Has he been of help?"

"A little." Though this is no fault of Hanneman's. Marianne avoids him as much as she can. She hasn't given him the _opportunity _to help for the most part.

"And you've managed to… _feed_… without trouble?" He asks hesitantly. The two of them have never been comfortable discussing the subject. It's understandably awkward for them to discuss her assault of random students every week.

"For the most part." Marianne mumbles. "Nothing worth mentioning."

The Margrave sighs deeply and sits back in his chair. "Marianne… you know what I am going to say."

"The sooner I find someone to marry, the sooner my secrets are not severe liabilities." She recounts. The sooner she is married the sooner she is bound in a contract the other party cannot easily break, and the sooner she has a security net of knowing she can't be easily cast out for her species or her crest. That's all based on her ability to manipulate someone into marriage without knowing about those secrets beforehand… and keeping them in marriage through use of her abilities.

It's really awful to use people that way and they both know it, but neither of them see another choice. No one is going to _willingly_ accept a succubus, much less one with the crest of the beast. Manipulation is their only choice.

Still, that doesn't mean they both don't want a good partner for her. If she is going to catch someone, they may as well be a good catch. Marianne doesn't really think she deserves that, but her uncle insists she find someone good so she does her duty and meticulously looks into proposed suitors.

Proposed suitors don't mean the Margrave has received a proposal exactly, simply people her uncle thinks she may be interested in that they could potentially make a move on if she chose to. So far, none have met her standards… not that she tries particularly hard. Some of her classmates have actually been suggested by her uncle before. Claude was one that has come up at least once, as has Lorenz.

Because she rejected so many people her uncle has considered the possibility that she may be into women, and so occasionally sends her a female candidate. For that purpose, Hilda was also one of his suggestions. For the record, no, she is not into women, but she allows him to continue suggesting such candidates in the hopes that someone nice will show up. She would take a wife over a husband simply for a kind personality even if she had no sexual interest in them.

That's all on the condition she actually has any intent to choose at all though. She still doesn't think she deserves anyone at all, but she can't exactly tell her uncle that. Similarly an arranged marriage is… distasteful, but considering the massive array of options her uncle has kindly provided her with, she isn't too upset about it.

"And how are you faring mentally?" Her uncle asks in a softer voice. "Are you still stressed? Have you been making friends?"

Marianne is worse than she's ever been, though that's no fault of Garreg Mach or her uncle. He's tried his very best for her, but she's avoided opening up to anyone and that includes him, so he doesn't know the exact issue. "I… have a few friends." She says to placate him. That's a lie, mostly. She wouldn't call anyone in her class her friend, even if they would call her theirs, because she's committed the inexcusable breach of friendship of feeding on all of them at least once.

"That's good." He seems relieved, and Marianne feels bad about lying to him. No, she's not alright. She feels terrible and more a monster than ever. Worse, some of her classmates know she's a monster now. Claude, Hilda, Ignatz… it's only a matter of time before her secrets get out fully and ruin her life.

Not that she doesn't deserve it, she supposes. Though the Goddess certainly took her time.

"Well, I'm glad that Garreg Mach has been good to you." Her uncle smiles. Marianne forces a small smile of her own for his sake. There's a small silence, then Marianne speaks again.

"Uncle… why is security in Edmund so poor?" She asks quietly.

The man grimaces. "We have been unable to subdue the scylla and need to protect our new shipping route to guarantee future prosperity. Unfortunately, the creature is posing an issue. Our profits from the route due to her are also negligible at this point, so I cannot hire more soldiers to compensate."

"You must ask for aid then."

"You know I cannot do that Marianne." He sighs. "Being in debt to another lord would be catastrophic for our reputation."

"Daphnel perhaps? Judith is unlikely to exploit a favor, she _is _known for her morality."

The Margrave shakes his head. "For Edmund to ask a favor of such a weak house would be equally problematic. Even if Judith would not exploit us, the other houses would never allow such a matter to pass."

Marianne's shoulders droop. The Margrave sighs, leans forward and places a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for your concern and your suggestions Marianne, I'm happy to see you taking our people's issues seriously, but I assure you I have considered many possibilities. I am not oblivious to our people's problems and am doing what I can to solve them."

That's small comfort given what she's seen and dealt with over the last few days, but she doesn't doubt he speaks the truth. "Be swift, Uncle."

"I will try Marianne."

###

The trip back to Garreg Mach is uneventful. There aren't any surprise bandits, no sudden wildlife attacks, nothing. Just a normal trip through the countryside of Leister. It's… horrendously boring if Claude is going to be honest. That's a good thing he supposes, it means there's no danger, but by the gods he wishes he had something to do other than bother Hilda.

Hilda never told him to stop talking to her, but he got the impression her patience was fairly low after about an hour of his chatter so he stopped. No one else really wants to chat with him though, so he sits out front with Byleth and the horses.

Byleth isn't much for conversation, but he does respond if Claude talks to him, so Claude takes full advantage.

"So Teach, how are you feeling about the Deer so far, huh? Have we blown you away?"

"No, you haven't."

"Ouch…"

"You've all been fine."

"Just fine?"

"You'd make horrible mercenaries." He says calmly. "Most of you have the combat awareness of a deaf and blind cow, and survive on raw skill more than your training. That said, your training is starting to show. However it would take years at this pace before I would consider most of you competent enough to join my father's mercenaries."

That's… brutally honest. "Well I suppose it's a good thing that's not our end goal, huh?"

"Yes." He glances at Claude with an unexpressive gaze. "You might be competent enough sooner than the rest. You already have combat reflexes."

Apparently his paranoia is good for something at least. "You flatter me Teach."

"No, I am giving an honest assessment of-"

"Sarcasm Teach."

Byleth goes quiet.

"I've got another question." Claude says after a moment. "What do you know about everyone in our class? What _sort _of information?"

Byleth stares at him again. His eyes are now somewhat narrowed now. "As a professor, I am bound by student-teacher confidentiality-"

"Okay, geeze, don't tell me then." Claude sighs.

"If there is something specific you want to know, I cannot tell you, but perhaps I can still give advice." Byleth offers. "Giving advice is literally my job."

"I thought it was to teach?" Claude jokes.

"That too." As usual, Byleth misses the joke.

"Right…" Claude muses this over in his head. What can he ask Teach that won't expose his intentions too much? "So let's say one of my classmates has… issues. They aren't comfortable with themselves. How am I supposed to help with that."

Byleth is quiet for nearly a full minute, and only when Claude just about thinks he didn't hear does the man respond. "You need to get them to talk. Force won't help. You need trust."

"That's a problem…"

"Unfortunately, it is the only way you can do anything. Even then, change can only truly be initiated by the person in question. You cannot 'fix' someone else." Byleth says quietly.

"Huh." That makes a certain amount of sense, even if Claude doesn't like it. "That's not what I expected you to say."

"I learned that from my father."

"That makes more sense."

"Can you tell me who it is?"

"What?"

"Can you tell me? Not the details, if it is private, but I am under the impression that your question is not arbitrary. Perhaps I can lend assistance thanks to my position that you are unable to."

Maybe the Professor is a bit sharper than Claude gives him credit for. He also makes a good point, but even mentioning that Marianne is having issues is going to naturally lead the Professor on the path to figuring out her species, and it will be seen as a breach of trust by Marianne if she ever finds out Claude told him.

Still, maybe it would be worth it, but… "I'm not sure you're exactly one to help with self-image issues Teach. You don't seem like a therapist to me."

"I'm not." He agrees. "But I know many people, and often one does not need a therapist. They simply need someone with a similar life, but a bit more overall experience. A mentor."

That's… fair enough. Marianne could probably benefit from realizing that being a succubus is _not_ an inherently damning trait, but she might need to hear that from someone like her. The words of an outsider can only offer so much. Claude and Hilda… they can use logic all they want, but sometimes that isn't what someone needs to hear, or maybe they just need to hear it from someone else.

"I can't tell you who it is." Claude says slowly. "But… Teach, what do you know about dangerous species?"

"That's too broad. Specify."

"Sentient species that are widely feared for being dangerous, or just perceived as dangerous."

"Still too broad."

Claude is trying to avoid saying "succubi" here, but Byleth is not making it easy.

"Predators of humanoids." Claude offers.

Byleth blinks. "Vampires?"

"And others."

"Right." Byleth says. "Does the problem involve feeding?"

Good, Byleth does get it. "I think so."

Byleth tilts his head. "Do they go out at night?"

Odd question. It's an important question, but not what he expected Teach to say. "Yes."

"Right. That's all I need to know."

"Just that?" Claude is honestly surprised.

He nods. "I know someone who can help. She'll find your person on her own."

Really? That's quite a promise. "She must be quite the individual."

"Yes."

"And you're sure she'll be okay with this?"

"Yes." Byleth nods. "She's done similar things before."

Well, okay. Hopefully it was a good choice to tell Byleth about this. "Who is she? What is she?"

"Her name is Acrim. A succubus. Assassin and spy by trade. She's been with my father's group for a decade." He recounts. "She's trusted."

Right… okay… Claude is still unsure about this, but he's committed at this point. This is probably the most impulsive decision he's made in a while, but Claude will readily admit he just isn't equipped to help Marianne. If the Professor has an idea, and the idea doesn't sound too bad, then it's probably better than whatever Claude could do. Besides, he's still successfully kept Marianne's anonymity from him. The only new person who's going to know is also a succubus herself.

Hopefully that will go well.

* * *

**Right, okay, cool. I think this works. It's always a risk to introduce an OC into a story, even as a side-character, so bringing Acrim into this is a gamble on my part even if her role is relatively minor in the grand scheme of things. The problem is that there really isn't anyone suited to help Marianne otherwise. The only other people with similar problems to Marianne are… well… okay, I guess I can't really say without revealing too much. Point is, Acrim isn't being included arbitrarily. She has a function. I mean, I guess I could have made up a different character, but why do that when I already have a perfectly serviceable character who can do the job?**


	13. Planning

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**I find myself really looking forward to writing this story. Claude, Hilda, and Marianne are so much fun.**

* * *

Claude notices a lot of random things. It's just in his nature. He looks at and analyzes anything and everything. Usually he has a measure of tact when commenting on his observations, knowing when to keep quiet or how to subtly get the answers he needs.

Key word: usually. This is not one of those times.

"Why is your skirt so short?"

Hilda, who was walking alongside him as part of the daily marching Byleth makes them do, slowly turns her head. Her expression is flat, and she raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm guessing that's either the start of the worst pickup line in history, or you really didn't think through your opening question."

Unfortunately it's Claude's learned instinct to grin when confronted on anything. You never want to look guilty by flinching or being nervous, so he trained himself to grin on instinct. It's very much _not_ helpful right now. "Uh, that's not-"

"For the record." Hilda interrupts. "It's generally a bad idea to let a girl know you've been staring at their…"

Claude tilts his head and keeps the grin on his face. He hopes it doesn't look as forced as it feels.

"...hips." Hilda finishes with an innocent smile, clearly implying that hips is _not_ the term she was going to say. She runs her fingers down her sides and over her own hips. "Though I guess mine are pretty nice."

"No comment." Claude says, taking the safe route.

"You don't agree?" Hilda pouts. "And you're smiling about it? Rude."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"So you _do_ like my hips."

Claude can honestly say he's never had a conversation like this before. This is quite unusual. "Sure Hilda."

"Sure? Not yes?"

If he were talking to someone else, Claude wouldn't hesitate to say yes and just play along. This is Hilda though, and admitting something so blatantly sexual (even if it's not true and all in good fun) feels… wrong. Maybe that's just Claude's paranoia and fear of blackmail talking though, so he forces aside the worry and keeps up his false confidence. "Yes."

"So you _do _like my ass."

"Yes, I like your…" Claude pauses, then gives her a flat look. "Hilda."

"I see how it is."

"Hilda-"

"So, what was your actual line of thought?" Hilda cuts him off, smirking. "I presume you weren't _just _staring at my ass."

Claude ignores the tease as best he can. She's messing with him. He'll just ignore it and get to his original question. "You know how Marianne and Lysitha have combat dresses?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you?"

"Because I don't need one…?"

"But you don't have anything else."

"Claude, in case you haven't noticed, I _do_ have something else. I don't exactly walk around naked." She says flatly.

"No, I mean _armor_." Claude clarifies. "Like… okay, Marianne and Lysithea each have a combat dress, right? They're made of tougher material than student uniforms, have extra padding, only go to mid-calf height so they don't drag on the floor, and have those two slits on the front so you can actually run in them, right?"

"Right…?"

"They provide a bit of protection over the usual student uniform, right?"

"Yeah."

"So why do _you _just have a normal student uniform? Everyone else has a dedicated combat outfit, but you're just wearing a student uniform." Claude says. "I noticed because of the skirt, hence why I asked about that at first."

"Well…" Hilda shrugs. "I _did_ get a combat outfit, but when I tried it on at home before coming here it was too restrictive. Whenever I swung my hammer it would chaff my shoulders and arms. The skirt portion was the same. It was nasty on my legs."

"You know you could just wear an undershirt then. And pants too." Claude says cheekily.

"I have an image to maintain Claude!" Hilda huffs. "Besides, those get in the way too. That's why I wear my student uniform. It's the only thing comfortable enough to fight in."

Claude supposes that makes a certain amount of sense. Unlike Raphael, Hilda's skin is not actually all that tough, so the rubbing of fabric against it could give some annoying friction burns. She also uses the most exaggerated movements of anyone which logically necessitates clothing which doesn't hinder those movements.

"I don't think your student uniform is optimal for that then." Claude notes. "Your current dress is kinda tight around the waist. You'd probably need to separate it into two, or just have an exposed waist…"

Hilda raises an eyebrow and smirks. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"That is _not_ the reason."

"Yeah I know. Honestly though, this uniform works. If it tears, whatever, I have spares. At least it's comfortable."

"I'd still rather you have a proper fighting uniform." Claude mutters.

"Glad to see you're just as protective as my brother and father." Hilda says with a roll of her eyes.

"They just want you to wear a bit of armor?"

"Well, they don't want me fighting at all… so nevermind, you're nowhere near as bad."

"Well thank the gods for that."

"Though my family doesn't stare at my ass either." Hilda teases.

Claude is fairly sure she's joking, but the paranoid part of him wants to be sure. "Hilda-"

"Yes Claude, I'm joking."

Apparently she can read him like a book now. When did he become so bad at faking calm?

"You can't handle flirting, can you?"

"I'll have you know I'm quite good at playing the suave noble!" Claude huffs. It's true, he's dealt with noblewomen and such many times before.

"Except with me, right?"

"No." _Yes, because I'm overly concerned about how you see me. _"You just took it in an unusual direction and I was surprised. That's all."

"Sure that's the reason…" She chuckles.

###

Claude isn't sure if it's coincidence or not that Rhea makes her announcement about the assassinattion only a day after the Deer return, but Claude would bet money that Rhea specifically chose a date that every house was present so as to really drive home her message.

The announcement is quite a bit longer than Claude expected, mostly because Rhea goes on for a solid five minutes about the 'grave error' the assassins made in attacking the church, and how the Goddess's judgement will rain down on them, and how the church is invincible, and-

"Bla, bla, bla…" Sylvain mutters. He's standing beside Claude and Hilda. "Yeah, we get it, the church thinks really highly of themselves and likes to use vague unsubstantiated threats about deities that haven't done anything in a dragon's age. Woo."

"Sylvain!" Ingrid hisses. "Not now!"

"What? She can't hear me over all that hot air she's blowing." Sylvain sneers. "And I bet she wants _us_ to handle this. You know, the thing that should be the church's problem?"

Sylvain's words are prophetic. The next words out of Rhea's mouth are to deliver the month's mission to the houses: that they are to prepare to search and guard the monastery during the Goddess's right of rebirth.

"Called it."

"Shhh!"

"_So not all the Lions are blindly faithful. Good to know._" Claude notes silently. "_Or maybe Sylvain expected this beforehand because Dimitri spread the word._"

…

"_Oh right, I was supposed to do that with the Deer. Oops_." Not that it matters too much. Claude will just have to the explain the situation to them soon so they understand that the assassination threat is probably misdirection. "_I also need to meet with Edelgard and Dimitri now that the announcement has been made to discuss the plan moving forwards._"

Edelgard puts Claude on edge, especially when her attention is on him. She's smart and sharp and therefore dangerous. Hubert is much the same. The fact that both of them are so cagey and clearly have their own agenda don't help matters either.

Still, it's that same intelligence that intrigues Claude. It's not often he gets to talk to someone so intelligent.

Rhea dismisses everyone and strides into the cathedral, head held high and her back straight. The formerly quiet crowd breaks out into murmurs, and Claude takes the opportunity to listen in to the chatter.

"The church wants us to do their dirty work again, huh?" Felix mutters.

"Oh dear, this is quite frightening, isn't it?" Mercedes whispers to Annette. "Assassins at Garreg Mach…"

"I hope the archbishop will be okay." Annette frets. "We've gotta do something. Maybe I can make a stoneskin potion for her."

"Is this being normal for Fodlan?" Petra asks. "In Brigid, this is not happening very often. It is considered unsatisfying to settle disputes indirectly."

"I'm really not the one to ask." Ashe murmurs. "But from what I've heard, nobles here are no stranger to shady stuff like this, both as targets and as _employers_."

"They should have me go with the Archbishop when the rite is happening!" Raphael booms with a confident grin. "Nothing can get through these muscles!"

"I dunno Raph, something seems fishy about this." Ignatz says. "A sensitive message shouldn't be stored on someone's person; that's common knowledge for merchants, much less nobles. This doesn't feel right."

Very acute observation from Ignatz, Claude notes. He's the only one Claude has listened to that seems to suspect something else is afoot.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about. We're going to be assigned to guard Rhea and that will be that." Catherine muses from the edge of the crowd. "No assassins are going to get past us."

"With that attitude they certainly will." Shamir retorts. "Overconfidence is the quickest route to failure. We need to be on our guard. Besides, this seems way too obvious. I don't think Rhea is even the target."

"No one is going to get _close_ to Lady Rhea…" Cyril seethes.

"Sure, but _you're_ not going to be anywhere close to the action." Shamir huffs, and drops a hand on his head. "Too young kid." She then ignores the glare Cyril shoots her way.

"Claude."

The boy tries not to flinch. It's been a long time since someone has managed to sneak up on him. He refuses to show that he's surprised, so he turns around as calmly as he can. "Heya Hube. What's up?"

"Lady Edelgard wishes to speak with yourself and Dimitri at the earliest possible convenience." The man says quietly. His expression is a small smirk. Claude suspects Hubert knows he managed to surprise him. "Bring only Hilda, if you wish."

"Of course." Only the heirs and their bodyguards, huh? Well, Hilda isn't a bodyguard, but Claude doesn't want to go into an important meeting alone, not when the other parties are so shifty. If this was at the start of the year, he probably wouldn't bring Hilda due to a simple lack of trust. "After dinner?"

"If you wish." Hubert nods. "Meet us in the gardens, as before."

"Gotcha."

Hubert quickly fades into the crowd, probably to go seek out Dimitri. It's weird how someone so distinct can fade into a crowd so well. Claude suspects Hubert has training.

"Well I guess I better tell Hilda." Claude sighs.

###

"Ooh, who made the muffins?" Hilda hums as she stuffs her face. "These are good!"

"I'll be sure to pass your compliments on to Mercedes." Dimitri smiles. "She was gracious enough to make these on short notice when I requested them."

"This is all well and good." Edelgard says impatiently. "But we have more important matters."

"C'mon Princess, we're not pressed for time. The assassination isn't for two weeks." Claude chuckles. "Cheer up, have a muffin."

He grabs a muffin and offers it to her. Edelgard gives him a flat, unimpressed look. Claude keeps waving the muffin in front of her face, and she eventually snatches it with an irritated look, probably just to get him to stop rather than any intent to eat it, but when Dimitri gives her a pointed look she sighs and takes a nibble.

Claude tries not to smirk at the surprised expression that steals over Edelgard's face for a moment, though she hides it as quickly as she can. "_Even her haughty Highness can't resist Mercedes' treats, huh?_"

"So." Edelgard coughs, and puts down her muffin. "The announcement."

"The Archbishop did not give any obvious indication that she has considered this is not intended to be an assassination." Dimitri notes.

"She can exploit an assassination attempt to rouse everyone's fury much easier than an elaborate burglary." Claude says. "People won't care as much about thieves. Better to just tell them it's assassins."

"Indeed." Edelgard nods. "The public is easy to manipulate and fool when you have the Goddess on your side."

Edelgard's sarcasm isn't lost on Claude. It goes over Dimitri's head though. "Indeed. Who would doubt a messenger of the Goddess?"

Hubert hides a sneer behind his sleeve, and Claude resists the urge to roll his eyes. Hilda hums and her eyes wander over the prince.

"Hey, Princey?" Claude smirks. "Literally everyone at this table is doing that. That's the whole reason we're here."

"I know that." Dimitri protests. "I was speaking the common logic."

"Ah, well good." Maybe he isn't as dense as he seems. "By the way Prince… did the message Lonato was holding have a name on it other than his? A mail-back location? Some identifying mark?"

Dimitri is already shaking his head before Claude finishes speaking. "It was the first thing I looked for, but unfortunately not."

"Unfortunate." Edelgard frowns. "But manageable. We will simply need to assume the worst and act accordingly."

"Prepare for the worst and you'll never be surprised?" Claude asks.

"Exactly."

"Great minds think alike apparently." Claude grins. "So, how many people are we assuming we're working with? Just the elites? Can we get more?"

"Are there others we can _trust_?" Edelgard stresses. "That is the issue."

"Yeah…" Claude muses. "I wonder if Teach's father's company is technically in the employ of the church or not. Maybe Teach could get them to help us..."

"You assume Professor Eisner is not going to be assigned a separate duty." Edelgard says. "There is a chance we may be deferred to work underneath a knight."

"In that case no preparations on our part will mean anything." Dimitri notes. "And we may as well not plan at all. A knight will be much less receptive to our ideas than our Professors."

"Depends on the knight…" Claude muses. "If we're under Jeralt we might still be able to do our thing."

"I would presume all the senior knights will be guarding Rhea as they are the most competent." Edelgard reminds him.

"Probab-" Claude stops abruptly, and turns his eyes to one of the entrances to this particular section of the gardens. Hubert has done the same. "Someone is coming. I can hear them."

Hilda looks doubtful, probably thinking it's his paranoia acting up, but Catherine walks into the gardens five seconds later proving him right and he shoots her a smug look.

"There you all are." The knight sighs. "Lady Rhea wants to speak with you three." She makes a vague gesture to the table, but everyone knows she means the heirs. "It's about the details of this month's mission."

Edelgard, Claude, and Dimitri share a quick glance. They get up and silently follow Catherine, leaving their retainers (and Hilda) behind.

The three of them silently file into the cathedral and stand before Rhea along with Hanneman, Manuela, and Byleth. Rhea's expression is probably supposed to seem serene, but Claude can see her clasped fingers are clenched, and her shoulders are slightly hunched from being so tense.

Edelgard picks up on it, but Claude is fairly sure Dimitri doesn't. Hopefully it won't matter.

"You all heard the announcement." Rhea says. It's not a question. "This is your formal mission. You are to patrol the monastery during the rite of rebirth. While there may indeed be a threat of assassins, it is more likely to be a distraction. The Knights will handle my protection. Your respective classes and professors, under the direction of Shamir, will be responsible for guarding the rest of Garreg Mach and reporting any suspicious behavior."

Well that's interesting. Rhea is indeed giving them the run of the place. How unusually trusting of her. Maybe she assumes they've been sufficiently impressed on the subject of the "divine importance and necessity of the church's power" from her speech earlier.

Yeah, sure. Maybe Marianne bought it because she's basically brainwashed by church doctrine, but even the general student populus probably doesn't care so much about the details of the church so much as they just have a vague idea it's important and Rhea sounded very impressive.

"We won't let you down Archbishop." Edelgard says in sufficiently pious fashion. "Such a brazen affront to the Goddess won't be allowed to stand in any form. We will catch the intruders when they come. You have our word."

"Indeed!" Dimitri seconds. "You will have only our best!"

"You can count on us Lady Rhea." Claude adds with a grin. "Assassins or thieves, by the time you ever have to see 'em they'll be dead or in chains."

"Good." Rhea smiles. It looks surprisingly sinister. Also, were Rhea's pupils always so… sharp? They're oval shaped, vertically, with pointed ends. A moment later they're back to normal. A trick of the light maybe? Or did he actually see that?

That is definitely going in his notebook. Dirt on the archbishop… ooh that would be useful.

Focus Claude.

The rest of the conversation is uninteresting. Mostly logistics. Claude's mind is already off planning…

###

"For this month's mission, my father has lent us the assistance of his mercenary company." Byleth says in a flat voice. "They will assist us with the mission proper, as well as training leading up to it."

"How so Teach?" Claude asks. He's fairly sure he knows already, but he may as well ask.

"They will function as personal trainers for those of you with similar skills." Byleth says. "While I may have a broad knowledge of all weapon types, it is no substitute for the knowledge of an experienced user, not to mention that they can teach other fighting styles much more effectively."

This is all well and good, but what Claude is excited about is the fact that this simplifies the plan to help Marianne. Acrim won't have to sneak around to find Marianne now because she's _supposed_ to be around the monastery, or at least has a good excuse to be.

Claude does wonder who he's going to work with, but he doubts it will matter. As confident as Claude is in his abilities, he has no doubt there are others better than him. Learning from someone else would be fantastic. The better Claude becomes in combat, the longer he'll survive when people inevitably discover he's Almyran and his former friends run him out of Fodlan.

You know, probably.

"The one-on-one training time any of you had with me will be transferred to someone who can help you more. Anyone who did not already have a consistent one-on-one training schedule is expected to make time. While ostensibly this special help is for the mission, this is in fact valuable for your continued training."

The announcement gets varied reactions. Some people like Raphael seem excited, whereas some like Leonie seem annoyed. Then again, Claude is fairly sure Leonie's one-on-one training was mostly an excuse to try and beat Byelth in a fight so maybe that doesn't count.

"Ugh, this is going to be such a hassle…" Hilda mutters. "I don't want to train."

"Maybe you can scare them away with your freakish strength." Claude teases.

"I have an image Claude! I need to look dainty and weak!" She protests.

"Bit late for that. Literally everyone in the class has seen you hold down a demonic beast, remember?"

"I try not to." Hilda sighs. "How am I supposed to avoid responsibility if everyone knows I'm capable?"

"Don't be too subtle there Hilda." Claude responds sarcastically. "We might figure out your plan."

"Shut up Claude."

"Professor!" Lorenz's voice cuts through Claude and Hilda's whispered conversation. "I must protest to bringing in _mercenaries_ to teach us! Do they have qualifications, certifications? Have they ever taught anyone before? How do we know they can be trusted around nobles? Putting such important people in the care of mercenaries can only end poorly."

Byleth stares silently at Lorenz for a solid minute. The boy doesn't back down, standing tall with arms crossed.

"Lorenz."

"Professor."

"You're an idiot." Byleth says flatly. He then turns towards the board. "Everyone get out your notes. We're going over anti-cavalry tactics today."

###

Claude idly flips through his notebook, staring at his pages of notes. It's very incomplete. He doesn't have a solid idea of Fodlan's history, or even the histories of the four main powers. He doesn't know the motives of all, or even most, major players, he doesn't have relevant information on army sizes, economic situations, political ideologies, and so on. He hasn't even managed to figure out basic information like what species most of them are. He hasn't managed that for his classmates at Garreg Mach either.

Sometimes Claude looks at his notebook and feels pride. He's managed to find out so much in a small amount of time. He's looking into history the church has covered up, he's figuring out politics in the Alliance with plans to start nosing into the other major powers, and he's learning all about different issues in the world through his classmates.

Other times, the information in the notebook feels pitiful. Insufficient. He might be figuring out politics in the Alliance, but that's just the base, surface level. He needs to know detailed motivations, economic situations, immediate goals, how he can persuade and manipulate them. He needs all that and more, and he needs to know that for Faerghus and Adrestia too. Those are just the high level issues. He still needs to consider smaller problems like the plethora of dangerous wild creatures that roam Fodlan, how to handle the issue of special cases like Succubi and Vampires and how to make sure they can live comfortably without them or others, or even things like proper tax rates and tax policies, and… and…

There's too much. Far, far too much. Sometimes Claude looks at his notebook and sees failure, a waste of effort, dreams too lofty to ever see realization even as leader of the Alliance, because the fact of the matter is that he won't, and probably shouldn't, have absolute power to change everything as he sees fit. The corrupt will stay corrupt, and he'll only be able to make inches of progress over the decades before dying a failure.

Claude shakes his head and closes his notebook. He's forgetting, he never really planned on success. Not complete success anyhow. It's a rare person that can change the world for the better in a mere century. He has to settle for something he _can_ do.

But he still doesn't know what that thing is. He has all this information but nothing he can really do with it. The information is too incomplete to be useful at the moment as well. He has a vague idea of the politics of the Alliance, but not enough that he feels comfortable acting on it. He has a vague idea of a more accurate timeline of history, but not enough that he can make use of it to make deductions or figure out any deeper secrets the church might be hiding.

"_Besides, I haven't made no progress at all. I've helped Marianne… by deferring the problem to someone else._" Claude sighs. That doesn't seem like much of a success at all when he puts it that way. "_So what? Do I just have to try something and cross my fingers? Wait until I'm an adult?_"

Yeah, he probably has to wait until he's an adult. Having (some) control of the Alliance will make his goals a lot more achievable.

"_Can't get lazy though. There's some research I can only do here, and this is a unique opportunity to talk with the upcoming generation of influential figures_." Claude reminds himself. He takes out a quill, flips to the back of the notebook, and scribbles down a note. "_This is your best chance to poke into personal business and learn other worldviews, take advantage of it. You have more access to church scripture here than anywhere else. Learn it, if only so you can poke holes in it later. Lastly… make allies. You won't get constant chances to talk to Adrestian and Faerghus nobles after you leave Garreg Mach. This is your best opportunity to get to know them, endear them, and get information out of them_."

Claude nods to himself and closes the notebook again. He had lost perspective. This was a good exercise and a good reminder. After all, he can't expect to change things later if he doesn't put in the groundwork now. Garreg Mach was always supposed to be for learning… just not exactly what the Church expects him to learn.

* * *

**Weird intermediate chapter here. Just need to bridge between the next two story points. Also, I realized I didn't really have clear and realistic goals for Claude besides "snoop on people", so the last segment hopefully rectifies that.**


	14. A Lesson

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**Rite of Rebirth soon. Not yet, but soon. Also, this will be the last chapter (at least for a while) that Marianne will have a significant part in. Her arc is (mostly) finishing up here. I go into a lot of little details about how succubi work, because yes, there was still more. Also, Claude training and studying history.**

* * *

Claude will admit he's guilty of hubris sometimes. He's maybe a bit too confident in his combat skills, but it's not like he's incompetent. He's highly competent in fact, just not as competent as others, and his mentors from Jeralt's band seem to delight in reminding him of that over and over and over.

"You call that a shot? You're at least two centimetres off the center." Jarvis huffs. "Get the arrow and try again."

Claude keeps his expression forcefully neutral. He just hit four bulls-eyes in a row, and the first time he misses this asshole acts all high and mighty.

"This is the only the shortest shot of my usual practice." Jarvis scoffs. "With this target you should be able to hit a bullseye every time, all the time."

Claude pulls the arrow out of the target and walks back to the shooting spot. Jarvis can mock all he wants, Claude isn't going to pass up lessons from an expert archer.

So he takes his firing position once again, draws his bow, and fires. The arrow hits the bullseye as expected.

"You were slow." Jarvis notes with a hint of scorn. "What are you practicing for? Shooting birds? You don't have time to be _slow_ in a battle. If you're going to practice, do it properly!"

Rudely put, but what Jarvis is saying makes sense. Claude needs to be practicing the motions he'll be doing in an actual battle, not these slow deliberate shots. You don't get to shoot like that in a battle. Most of the time you need to be fast and constantly reposition yourself.

So Claude fetches the arrow once again and makes his way back to the shooting spot. This time he makes sure to draw and fire quickly, and manages to get another bullseye.

"Well?" Jarvis asks, raising an eyebrow. "Why did you only shoot once?"

Claude stares at him silently. He once trained under Nadar, who had a similar teaching style, and he learned the best way to deal with this sort of teacher was to just say nothing.

Plus, Claude gets petty satisfaction out of seeing their frustration when he refuses to talk to them.

"You're not going to get in a battle and just shoot _once_ are you?" Jarvis asks. "Of course you aren't. Get that arrow and try again."

Claude does so, and rolls his eyes. This guy is quite full of himself, isn't he? Claude hasn't even seen him shoot yet. Is he even as good as he claims he is? Claude isn't going to test that though, better to play it safe. Jeralt doesn't seem like the type of person to recruit someone incompetent.

While Jarvis is annoying, Claude's other mentor is just scarily competent. Considering he has a bit of background knowledge on her, he'd say he has good reason to be scared of her too.

Claude peers around the edge of the Blue Lion's classroom. His current mission is to find and hit (fist, arrow, dagger, anything) his mentor before she hits him. Considering his mentor for stealth is Acrim, supposedly a professional assassin, he doesn't think he has a very good chance at winning this despite his above-average stealth skills. It's not impossible, he's bested assassins before, but he suspects Acrim will be a tad more competent than the cheaply hired assassins sent after him in Almyra.

No, Claude doesn't expect he can beat Acrim one on one. That's why he's going to cheat. Heck, Acrim didn't establish any rules so he may not even be cheating. Sure, he may have had to pay by taking on that person's chores for a day, but that's a small price.

He's lucky he found out that person was a witch, or else he would have never guessed they were a skilled potion-maker.

The ace sits on his belt. A small, inconspicuous vial that looks like one of the many antidotes Claude keeps on his person at all times.

Claude makes sure to keep looking up. The best place to hide is above someone, because people seldom look up. He expects Acrim to make use of that, if only to test that he knows this basic fact.

Claude could be acting more stealthy. He could be up on the rooftops, hiding in trees, or even blending into the mass of students near the dining hall. He could have changed his clothes as well. But he hasn't, because he has a different plan. He wants to one-up his mentor and prove that he's competent without any of those tricks. He's dressed as normal and sticking to areas without a lot of other people which makes him much easier to spot.

It also means Acrim can't hide in crowds. A trade-off. Claude's plan relies on having a clear target and no one else in the way. He doesn't want collateral damage.

Is this overkill for a training exercise? Absolutely. But it's going to be damn satisfying if it works.

The other issue is that Acrim could hit him with a dagger, but he actually doesn't expect her to do that. If her training methods are anything like Jarvis, then she's going to try and take him down in the most embarrassing way possible to show how much he has to learn.

And underestimating him like that is going to cost her.

Claude moves over to the Golden Deer classroom and steps inside. He intentionally keeps the door open just a crack. Just enough that someone can't slip inside without moving it, and so he keeps an eye on the light on the floor coming from the door. If it's opened any more he'll see it.

That said, Claude also knows you can get in through the roof. There are certain tiles that can be removed to reveal a hole where some boards rotted away, and you can slip down to the rafters from there. However, those tiles are on the side of the roof where the door is, so light will also shine down from the roof if Acrim removes the tiles. Claude knows exactly where that light will appear too.

He tries not to grin when he sees a patch of light appear on the floor. The roof tiles then. Claude picks up his canteen, an empty canteen, and pops the lid. He then takes the vial and subtly pours the potion into it before putting the vial back on his belt. He does this as he walks through a blind spot of the roof entrance. He knows about this blind spot, just behind a pillar near the far corner of the room where the bookshelf is located, because he's investigated the roof entrance before during his nighttime snooping.

Claude pulls his eating dagger out and flips it so the dull end is where the sharp side would be. He carefully looks behind the bookshelf, as if he expects her to be there. He then swiftly drops his dagger, downs the contents of his canteen, and spins around.

His timing was perfect. Acrim lands on the ground just as he turns to face that direction. She looks like a proper ninja, dressed in discolored and tightly wrapped grey clothes that would effectively break up her shape against stonework. The perfect clothes for stalking someone in a city.

Too bad Claude really doesn't need to aim for this attack to work. He takes a quick breath as Acrim leaps towards him and spews out the contents in his mouth.

The potion Claude had obtained was from Annette. She's a witch (which was actually shockingly easy to find out, apparently it's common knowledge among the Lions), a species well known for their potion brewing capabilities and she was no exception. This particular potion is a variant of the dragon-breath potion which usually allows you to spew fire or any other element. By adding a spider's spinnerets and adjusting the spell a bit, Annette managed to make a spell that allows one to spit extremely sticky webbing.

Acrim is fast, but not sufficiently so. The webbing hits a massive area, coating half the room (and Claude's target) in silken strands that form droopy lines of white and hang from the rafters after the force of their launch has worn off.

Acrim is pinned to the ground, her whole body covered with the stuff. She manages to pull a dagger and slash away some of her bonds, but Claude easily strolls over and taps her legs with his own dagger before she can free herself.

"I-" Claude coughs. He reaches into his mouth and removes a few extra strands of webbing. "I win."

The woman is silent for a moment, then chuckles. "I suppose you are. Byleth warned me, and I suppose I should have listened."

"You thought he was exaggerating my skill?"

"Yes." Acrim says honestly. She cuts off the remainder of the webbing and accepts his hand up. "Though I can see I was mistaken. How did you know I entered, incidentally?"

"Removing the roof tiles during this time of day lets light in."

"And I thought you wouldn't notice that." She muses. "Though I also didn't expect a modified dragon-breath potion. Do you keep those on you all the time?"

"Nah, I got one especially for this. I figured you might underestimate me and wanted to make a point." Claude says. "I've dealt with assassins before. Not through such flashy means, but still."

"Point taken then." Acrim says. "I'll step up my game next time. I'm guessing we can skip past the basics of stealth and all that?"

"Probably?" Claude shrugs. "I'll admit, my training isn't formal. I figured it out by necessity for the most part."

"It's because you're half human, isn't it?"

How very acute of her. That's not the whole of it, but being half-human is certainly a large factor. "That's part of it."

"Well I won't pry. Tomorrow we'll run down the basics of everything to see what you know." She glances around the room. "You might want to clean up before the room needs to be used."

Claude pauses and stares at the room. "Fuck."

"You didn't think of that, did you?"

"I did." No, he really didn't.

"Well, good luck."

###

Claude can't decide if he finds reading religious texts boring or hilarious. The bias and blatant lies in them are so painfully obvious. Sometimes it's amusing, and sometimes Claude wonders if the people who wrote this just copied a sermon onto paper and added a frame narrative because it's certainly as dull as a sermon.

That said, Claude is learning some interesting tidbits from reading these texts; specifically concerning texts from different time periods. There are a few key bits of the faith that seem to drift over time. One of these important bits of faith is the role of Seiros in the religion. In older texts, Seiros is portrayed as something of a demigod, one of many in fact. The scripture claims she is a nabatean, which is never actually explained beyond nabateans "being the children of the Goddess". Seiros also isn't treated as being too different from the others. A bit more emphasis is put on her deeds, as it is the Church of _Seiros_ after all, but other notable nabateans are almost as focused on as she is. In later editions the only other nabateans that have any sort of relevance in the scriptures are Chichol and Cethleann, with a few minor nods being given to Indech and Macuil. In the older religious texts there are more than just four saints, and while Chichol and Cethleann have always gotten special treatment the others were not as obviously neglected.

Anyhow, Seiros used to be a nabatean. A demigod saint that was focused on by the church, but was not given much extra importance over the others. Over the decades of religious texts, that started to change, and now Seiros is given almost god-like status in the religion, only outclassed by the Goddess herself. Seiros is never called a goddess of course, that would be blasphemy, but religious texts are increasingly filled with Seiros' teachings and anecdotes of things Seiros has done. The other saints are still mentioned, but they seem like afterthoughts, and they're glossed over in a way that makes Claude think the writer found the others boring.

Over time there is also an increased focus on obedience and reverence in the scripts. The old texts talk about being courageous and standing up to adversity but also being critical and observant and how everyone should strive to teach others. The new texts emphasize obedience, especially to the church, and how the church can answer all questions and how the goddess knows all.

Also of note are the writings of the archbishops over time. They are surprisingly few in number. The archbishops are mentioned a decent bit in the personal writings of other prominent religious scholars, but information about the archbishops themselves are usually second-hand.

The archbishops are always female, which is interesting. They all apparently have green hair, and are always young. It's uncanny how similar they all are. Whenever an archbishop dies their second-in-command takes over while a new archbishop is chosen. Chosen by who or what system, no one seems to know. The process takes about a year, and the new archbishop is always someone that nobody but the second-in-command seemed to know beforehand. The archbishops all seem to live unusually long too, about two and a half centuries, with the phenomenon being attributed to a "divine gift" from the goddess and evidence of her power.

Needless to say Claude is suspicious. That sounds like bullshit. It sounds to him like the same person trying to disguise the fact that they live for a stupidly long time.

That also implies that Rhea has actually been around for over a thousand years and that her true name is probably not Rhea.

Of course, there is also the possibility that the archbishops are actually dying every few centuries and they all happen to be close to, if not exactly, identical due to some genetic quirk like the Anna clan. So Claude's theory isn't absolute, he just considers it the most likely considering the information he has to work with.

Actually, a similar trend can be seen for the archbishops' second-in-commands. They always have green hair, are always male, usually even have the same hair _style_… It's suspicious. Granted, the second-in-commands usually have a once a century cycle of "dying" and a "replacement" being chosen, which is (close enough to) within a human life expectancy, but it's still suspicious.

Claude has had unexpected help in his research in the form of Tomas. Not that it's unexpected for a librarian to help a student, but Tomas was the one who provided him with some of the older texts which he claimed were "in storage" and therefore normally inaccessible to students.

Don't get him wrong, Claude is glad for the help, but it seems weird that Tomas is so eager to help him. The church obviously keeps the old texts off the shelves so people can't see the discrepancies, but Thomas brought them out with no reservations whatsoever.

Weird. Helpful, but definitely weird.

###

Letters from his parents are rare. Getting a letter through Fodlan's Throat is difficult or expensive, usually both, so it's no surprise he neither receives nor sends letters through there very often.

Claude has no idea what the letter could be about… and when he opens it and reads the first line it becomes incredibly obvious.

"_Right, I forgot my birthday was on thursday._" Claude thinks. "_Have I really been at Garreg Mach for that long?_"

Actually, he hasn't been paying attention to birthdays at all. He hopes he hasn't missed any important ones. When is Hilda's birthday again? Pegasus moon? That's not for a while, thank the gods.

He doesn't want to think about how difficult it will be to find a gift for Hilda when the time comes. Claude can tell good jewelry from bad jewelry, but it's all so expensive and Claude doesn't have that much money he can pull from, his uncle keeps him on a tight leash in that regard.

Whatever, that won't be a problem for a few months. He'll find a way to get some extra cash before then.

The letter is nothing particularly special. It's from his parents so it's special in that regard, but the contents are exactly what you'd expect of a birthday letter. Sending a parcel through Fodlan's Throat is even more of an issue than a letter, so the only gift his parents managed to send him was a few gold inside the envelope.

He appreciates the thought. The instructions were to "use it on something nice", so Claude supposes he'll use it on new boots. His old ones are getting a bit worn after two years of daily use.

Claude folds the letter after he's done reading it and hides it away in a hidden pocket of his desk. That letter has his real name on it which shows his Almyran heritage, so that's not something he can leave where a potential spy could find it.

He can imagine Hilda rolling her eyes at him and saying "_Claude, no spy is going to care about your birthday letter._"

Speaking of Hilda… she knows he's from Almyra, so maybe he should consider telling her his name. Then again, his name might give away a bit more information than he's comfortable with. Hilda could find out his position in Almyra from his name, so perhaps he'll hold back on that.

"_She's going to be so mad when I tell her I've been using a fake name_." Claude thinks absently. "_That's going to be a fun conversation._"

And by fun he means terrible, but that's aside from the point. It's also months if not years away from happening, so he doesn't have to worry about it now.

###

Marianne stares at the door. Is she actually doing this? This feels like a terrible idea. She should just back out and find someone else.

"_Except he's expecting me_." Marianne reminds herself. She can't back out now, no matter how much she may want to.

Well, she _can_, but it would be rude.

That said, the idea that Ignatz is actually going to remember this is somewhat horrifying to her. Not only does Ignatz know what she is, he's actually going to remember the feeding process. You know, the process in which she pins him to his bed, drugs him with charm magic, and spends an hour forcefully kissing him to suck out energy?

Marianne is embarrassed even thinking about the process. It's beyond her how Ignatz can accept such a horrible thing being done to him. The act is likely sacrilege of the body too. There's no way the Goddess would accept such actions.

Not that Marianne has ever found any passages in any texts that are explicitly against feeding (at least of the voluntary kind), but Marianne assumes it would be frowned upon. Succubi are feared because the very act of feeding is horrible, regardless of context.

Or, at least, that's what Marianne assumes. Any time she hears succubi mentioned it is always in the context of them being incredibly dangerous. There is never any consideration given to the circumstances the succubus might be experiencing, just the results of their actions. There is no hope for a being with such foul abilities.

Still, she needs to feed. If force of will could abate her hunger, she'd like to think it would have happened a long time ago.

It is with great reluctance that she knocks on Ignatz's door. Ignatz opens it almost instantly, and Marianne feels bad that he might have been waiting for her while she was just standing outside indecisively.

"Marianne!" Ignatz says breathlessly. Realizing he might sound a bit too excited, he tries to school his expression. "Uh, come in."

The girl nods silently and follows him inside. His room is the same as it usually is when she gets to see it. His paintings are almost all covered up to hide them, which is a shame because Marianne likes his paintings. His landscapes wonderfully adapt the view in front of him while his portraits are quite accurate (with a bit of flattering embellishment).

Maybe she could ask to see them? That would be selfish though. She's already feeding on him. She has no right to ask for anything else, much less something as petty as seeing his paintings.

"S-So, uh, how does this work?" Ignatz asks. He's standing in the middle of his room with his hands clasped tightly in front of him. His nervousness is palpable, and when he meets her eyes he quickly looks away. "What do I have to do?"

"You don't have to do anything." Marianne murmurs. She steps towards him and he straightens in surprise and anticipation. She places her hands on his shoulders and he visibly trembles, and Marianne cringes. Even with her necklace still on, she's terrifying to him. That thought weighs heavily in her mind. "You don't have to do this you know… I can find someone else, or wipe-"

"No!" Ignatz says forcefully. He cringes a moment later. "I mean… I'm fine with it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, you don't have to feed on anyone else." Ignatz nods. "It's fine."

Marianne is confused by how insistent he is about this, but then a thought crosses her mind and she understands. "_If he does this, no one else has to suffer. He's being altruistic_."

"Alright, turn around for a moment please." Marianne requests.

"Wh-Why? I thought you said this was just…" He taps his mouth.

"It is." Marianne flushes. "I don't like taking my necklace off in front of others."

"Ah." He says. His clasped hands turn white-knuckled. "Wh-What is it like to be charmed…?"

"I don't know." Marianne says honestly. "I'm immune to charm effects myself."

"Right, stupid question." He laughs shakily. "Sorry, I'm just nervous. This is a new experience for me you know?"

Marianne feels horrible all over again. He's nervous because of _her_. "It will be fine. From what I'm aware, charm is pleasant. _Feeding_ is pleasant, unless I attempt to make it not so." She squeezes his shoulder. "I promise you'll be fine."

He takes a deep breath. "Right, okay, let's do this." The boy turns around, giving her a moment. Marianne takes a deep breath and removes her necklace like she's done so many times before. She isn't sure if it's better or worse that she's going to be feeding on a friend this time. Is it better or worse that he'll remember?

The necklace comes off. It feels like removing a corset. All her magic is suddenly unconstrained, it can _breath_. It might feel liberating and relieving if it didn't always signify she was going to feed.

"Okay." Marianne says quietly. She doesn't think she'll ever get used to the way her voice changes with her necklace off. It's too soft, too inviting, too _sultry_ for someone like her. "You can turn around."

Ignatz does so with great hesitance. Like usual Marianne feels that painful constriction in her chest when his eyes go wide upon seeing her and he takes a deep, surprised breath. "I… uh…"

"These should come off." She murmurs, and plucks his glasses off his face. She sets them aside as she usually does on his side table. "Are you ready?"

"You- uh-" Ignatz stammers. "Wow…"

That gets a furious blush out of Marianne. She quickly reminds herself it's just the charm magic at work. "Lie down." She instructs, and gently pushes him onto the bed. "Okay, again, are you ready?"

"What happens after?" Ignatz asks suddenly. "When you're done with me?"

Marianne doesn't like the way that's worded. When she's "done with him"? That makes it sound like she throws him away. She understands the question though. "I usually put you to sleep and erase your memory, though I won't erase it this time."

"Can you not put me to sleep either? There's something I want to do." He says this meekly, and when she stares at him in surprise he shrinks into himself a bit like he's embarrassed.

"You do know you'll be not quite in your right mind…?"

"I know, I'm not going to go anywhere." He promises.

"Do you need me to watch you after?" She asks in concern. What exactly is he going to do?

"No no!" He protests. "I-I was just going to… paint."

"Paint?"

Ignatz nods timidly. "This is a unique experience, so, uh, I figured it could be inspiring."

Inspired? By someone preying on him? Artists are weird. "If you wish." She makes a point to push him onto the bed and sit in his lap, ignoring his sharp intake of breath. She's put this off long enough. "Now, again, are you ready?" After a moment she adds. "This is your last chance to back out. Once I start you won't be able to tell me to stop." You know, because he won't be able to speak.

"I… I'm ready." He squeaks.

Marianne doesn't waste a moment longer. She firmly wraps her arms around his smaller body, with one hand going to the back of his head, and then presses her mouth against his. She tries not to be too forceful, but she's worried her hunger is showing. As always the first taste sends a jolt of excitement through her body that she brutally suppresses.

Feeding for Marianne is always an act of self-control. Her instincts demand that she feed longer, that she be more forceful, that she run her hands down his back and push him down onto the bed and-

"_Stop._" Marianne squeezes her eyes shut. "_Don't think about it._"

_It could be nice for him too_. The part of her that pretends to be benevolent but is actually horribly selfish, her inner Sylvain, murmurs conspiratorially. _A little more enthusiasm won't hurt him. You're already kissing him quite passionately. Did you even notice?_

Marianne hadn't noticed. She softens the force she didn't realize she was applying. Her hunger really is getting the best of her.

_You need to feed more often. You know the long way is supposed to be done biweekly, not once a week. You're starving yourself on a regular basis._

"_I'm fine, it's worked so far._"

_And you've never been closer to losing control then now. Poor girl, so desperate for affection that even Ignatz's casual acceptance makes you this excited._

The implication makes her seem pathetic. Doubly so because it's painfully true. For the rest of her feeding Marianne ignores the whispering in the back of her head.

###

"There you are, I knew I felt some charm from around here."

Marianne jumps in surprise and fumbles to bring up a nosferatu spell. When she whips around with the spell on her fingers, she's surprised to find the person hasn't pulled a weapon on her and simply holds up their hands.

"Sorry. Everyone in the company is used to me doing that. Forgot that you wouldn't be." The woman chuckles. Marianne has never seen her before. She looks…

"Are you a ninja?" Marianne asks dumbly.

"Kunoichi if we're being technical. Assassin if we're talking about my usual job." The woman offers. "And you're a succubus, aren't you?"

Marianne freezes up. How does she know that? She made sure to put her necklace back on. Is it just because she's out so late?

"Ah, so that's the case." The woman muses. "You don't like other people knowing, do you?"

"I-I-"

"Hey, no worries." She reaches down the neck of her outfit and pulls out a small necklace. "I'm the same as you."

Marianne isn't sure if that's reassuring or worrying.

"Name's Acrim by the way. I'm part of Jeralt's group. We're helping your class for the rest of the month, as well as the mission."

"Right." Marianne squeaks. What does Acrim want with _her _though? Also… "You have a necklace too?"

"Of course I do. Pretty standard for our kind." Acrim nods. "You didn't know?"

"No."

"Huh." Acrim blinks. "If you don't mind me asking… did your mother never tell you?"

"I have not seen my mother in a very long time." Marianne murmurs. She's likely dead, but Marianne doesn't want to say that. The pain is too acute. "A relative raised me."

"Were they a succubus?"

"No."

"Right." The woman's mouth settles into a thin line. "Right. That might be a problem."

That feels vaguely like a threat to Marianne, and it must show in her body language because Acrim quickly reassures her.

"I'm just worried." Acrim explains. "Worried that your mother didn't get to explain everything to you about being one of us."

"I know about feeding, I know about our powers." Marianne says. "What more is there to know?"

"Do you know about first time loss of control?" Acrim asks. "Or marking?"

"Umm…" She's never heard of either of those things. "No."

"How about our life expectancy? Did you know we can all mind control people? That we can quite literally destroy someone's mind by using too much charm magic?"

"I know we live for a bit longer than humans." Marianne murmurs. About one-hundred and fifty years on average to be precise. She was vaguely aware that _some_ succbi could mind control, but not every one of them. And destroying someone's mind? That's… terrifying. Why do they even have the ability to do that!?

"Right…" Acrim takes a deep breath. "Then there's a few things I think I should explain."

A prickle of electricity runs down Marianne's spine. This whole situation makes her uncomfortable; not because Acrim feels threatening, but because Marianne worries about what she could learn. She doesn't want more misery added onto her situation, to learn some horrible truth that makes being a succubus even worse, but is it not better she knows so she does not inflict some unexpected horror on an innocent other?

Marianne swallows and asks hoarsely. "Please, tell me."

"You sound so worried." Acrim blinks. "What's wrong?"

"I'm worried it will be worse."

"Worse than what?"

"Worse than I am already."

The woman tilts her head. Her mouth is covered, but Marianne expects she's frowning. "What is wrong with what you are? Have you done something wrong?"

"I have fed on people who are unwilling." Marianne mutters miserably. "Is that not what a monster does?"

"Well…" Acrim purses her lips. "If that's all it takes to be a monster than _any _succubus, or any member of a feeding species at all, is probably a monster. A lot of us don't have the liberty of having a dedicated feeding partner as soon as it becomes necessary that we feed. Are you saying all of us are horrible people?"

"No!" Marianne protests. "Just me."

"A why's that? Did you traumatize someone?"

"Every week." Marianne nods.

"Do you not memory wipe them?"

"I do, but-"

"Well that's pretty standard then."

"But it's horrible!"

"Do you use the long way or the short way?"

"The long way, but-"

"Well then you're probably better than most."

"But-"

"Why are you so insistent that _you're_ some terrible person kid?"

"I am!"

"Have you killed someone who didn't deserve it?"

"Well no-"

"Traumatized someone who you didn't mind-wipe?"

"No but-"

Acrim crosses her arms. "So what's so bad about you in particular then? It sounds to me like you _want_ to hate yourself, that for some reason you expect yourself to live up to standards that no one else has to."

"But I am worse!"

"Oh really? Do tell. Name one thing you've done that's worse than everything we've gone through already."

"I've… I've…" Marianne is sure there's something. There's always something. How can she not think of something else? There has to be something else. "I've put people to sleep and wiped their memory just for figuring out I'm a succubus!"

"That's pretty normal too."

"I… I…"

"Look." Acrim sighs. "I know being one of us kinda sucks sometimes, but that doesn't mean everything you do is necessarily your fault. You've been dealt a crappy hand, and you really can't be blamed for wanting to _live_. As long as you make an effort to make it as painless for others as possible, there's no reason for you to think of yourself so poorly."

"But it feels so horrible…" Marianne whispers. "It feels so good, and that's why it feels so horrible."

"I get it." Acrim says tiredly. Her shoulders sag a bit and her eyes look away for a moment. Marianne can't help but feel like the woman isn't lying. "It's hard to forgive yourself for enjoying the act of preying on others, isn't it?"

Marianne nods solemnly. That sounds right. "I know I should hate it, but all I can think about in the moment is how tasty he is, or how liberating it feels to take my necklace off, or how nice it is to hold someone… even if they're as limp as a doll."

"_Especially_ if they're as limp as a doll." Acrim says with obvious familiarity to the feeling. "Right?"

Marianne nods uncomfortably.

"Do you know why?"

She shakes her head.

"Evolution." Acrim says. "Think about it. Succubi didn't get all these powers and feeding habits randomly. Just like most creatures we evolved them over time. Humans are easy prey if you have the right tools or skills, so we evolved to a hyper-specific niche. Charm magic, faster than usual physical development, and our immaculate and extremely shapely appearances, all of those are tools to help us prey on people. Men in particular, I might add. That's why succubi are reproductive parasites. A one-gendered species. Why have male succubi when you can just charm a human?"

Marianne shudders and Acrim nods.

"Nasty way to think, I know, but evolution is like that. Point is, we've evolved a certain way. Even our subconscious is affected by this. It's the reason why preying on someone is so enjoyable. That's because, evolutionarily, it was useful to be eager to feed." Acrim pauses, collecting her thoughts. She didn't intend this to turn into a lesson about evolution. "Anyhow, the point is, evolution is a bitch and you can't shake a lot of it, but knowing the reasons behind it can make it more bearable."

Marianne nods silently.

"Right, what else did I mention but not explain?" Acrim mutters.

"Something about loss of control? And… marking?" Marianne provides hesitantly.

"Right, uh… I had the first one explained to me when I got 'the talk'." Acrim coughs. "Never thought I'd be explaining this. So, you know the short way?"

"Y-Yes? I've never done it."

"Good."

"Good?"

"If you did, the first time anyways, there's about a seventy-five percent chance you'd accidentally kill your partner."

There's a long pause as Marianne processes that information. "Wh- _What!?_" She yelps. "It _kills_ them?!"

"Well you can always _choose_ to kill them." Acrim mutters. "But yeah, uh, we have this weird quirk where our powers tend to go out of control when we have our… first time. Unless you have someone else present to keep your powers under control, you can probably say goodbye to the poor guy you brought to bed. Every other time after that is totally under your control, but the first time can be a nasty surprise if you don't know about it."

Marianne always knew her species was bad, but _that_ is just awful. What sort of sadistic branch of evolution led to her species having a quirk that surprise kills the first person you try to be intimate with? "That's horrible!"

"I know." The older woman nods grimly. "Even worse, I've met some of our kind that treat it like a rite of passage. To be a 'proper' succubus you have lure whatever human you've become closest with home, usually a childhood friend, and kill them during your first time. Apparently it's to 'prove your skills as a predator', with no regard for the cost of life involved of course."

Marianne shudders again, more violently. She feels physically sick after hearing that. A rite of passage that usually kills close friends, and it's treated like a _good _thing? That's… that's… what sort of despicable people…? "I-I know you're supposed to respect other people's cultures, but…"

"Yeah, they can rot in hell." Acrim says firmly.

"You said it only kills if you don't have help? So this can be bypassed?" Marianne asks, desperate to change the subject, if only a bit.

"Yeah, it's not hard. So long as you have another succubus there, you'll be fine. It's a bit embarrassing to have someone else around, but better than accidentally killing a friend. That sort of thing tends to put a dampener on an otherwise fun evening." Acrim jokes, also trying to lighten the mood. "Not a big deal aside from that."

"And marking? Is that some biting thing?"

Acrim raises an eyebrow. "I think I understand your taste in novels."

Marianne blushes a brilliant red and hides her face in her hands. The older woman laughs and pats her on the shoulder.

"Anyhow, no, marking does not involve biting, or anything of the sort. Just a little bit of skin contact is fine. Shake their hand or something if you want. It's just a little magic signature to tell others that the marked person is yours."

"M-Mine?" Marianne's blush doesn't go away.

"It's nothing dirty." Acrim laughs. "It's a way of telling others that a person is already being fed on. You wouldn't want someone to accidentally be the regular feeding partner of _multiple_ succubi, that could take a lot out of them. Succubi mark their significant others, close friends, and male children. Don't mark too many people or others will disregard your marks as you being greedy if they find out."

"Right."

"If that little glasses boy is your feeding partner, you should consider marking him. After all, there is a vampire here. They mark too. Any feeding species tends to mark."

"Is it instinctive? I've never felt the urge…"

"Nah, it's a modern thing. My mom taught me how to do it when I started hunting around." Acrim steps forward, removes a glove and her necklace, and extends a hand. "You just do this."

Acrim pokes Marianne in the forehead. She can feel a brief tingle of magic, and then nothing. "That's it?"

"Yep. Can you feel it? You might need to take off your necklace."

Marianne is obviously nervous about doing so, but she does. Taking off her necklace also lets her feel the charm magic rolling off Acrim. It's much less than her own power, but she isn't sure if that's because Acrim is more restrained or if her natural power is just that strong.

Judging by how Acrim raises her eyebrows in surprise, Marianne suspects her own power is just very strong. She can also feel the mark. It really is a minor thing. It doesn't particularly stand out, and she could ignore it easily if she wanted, but she can see the use in it. It's like posting a note, except instead of on a board it's on a person and the note has no contents. Marianne can feel the same magical signature on Acrim's mark as from the woman herself.

"There's a few more minor things I could go through, but it's getting late and I think I've mentioned the most important parts." Acrim says. She taps Marianne again, removing the mark, and puts her necklace back on (Marianne does the same). "If you want to talk again I'd be happy to. I'm sure there's something I've forgotten, and I imagine you'll think of a question or two over a few days."

Marianne nods silently. She frankly feels a bit overwhelmed at the moment from such an overload of information. She learned more about how her own species works in thirty minutes than she has in nearly a decade prior.

She wouldn't say she feels _good _about herself now, but… maybe her situation isn't quite as terrible as she assumed.

* * *

**Self-indulgent detailing of how succubi work. Had these ideas in mind **_**forever**_**, and even if it's an info dump I'm glad to get it out there. Now that I have that out of my system, I can move on to other characters. Not that Marianne won't still show up, but her main arc is effectively over.**

**I could ramble forever about Marianne in this story, but I won't. Succubi are so much fun though. No wonder I use them so often. They're a perfect mix of drama, comedy, sexual humor, and genuinely interesting traits (if you put in some effort to make them interesting). At least, that's my opinion.**


	15. Preparation

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**It's either this chapter or next chapter that we'll get to the Goddess's Right of Rebirth. Not quite sure. I have a few small scenes that I want in before we get to that, but I have no idea how long that will take.**

* * *

Hilda yawns. Her mouth stretches wide and her arms stick up in the air. She yawns for a very long time too, giving everyone around a good long while to realize she's tired.

Claude rolls his eyes when Raphael, ever oblivious to Hilda's obvious manipulation, says "boy, you look tired Hilda!"

"I am." Hilda sighs. She yawns again, loudly. "Our special training has been just awful for me. I'm a fragile maiden after all! Sleep just isn't enough to get all my energy back."

"Then you should eat more!" Raphael says predictably. "The dining hall will let you take thirds you know!"

Hilda makes a face. "I have an image to maintain Raphael! I'm not big and muscular like you, if I eat that much I'll look like a glutton!"

Claude nods to himself at Hilda's deft wording. She could have just said that eating a lot would make her look like a pig, but in order to not offend Raphael she showed she understood why _he_ eats so much and also making it sound like a compliment. Clever clever girl.

"Aww, don't be like that Hilda! No one is going to care if you have fourths!" The boy says reassuringly. "Everyone knows you're strong, so they'll understand you need a lot of energy! Don't worry about it!"

Claude smirks as Hilda continues to sigh and complain and try to wiggle around the idea that she should eat more. What Hilda is _trying_ to do is get help with notes so she can justify napping in class or convince people she's too tired to go to class at all. Sadly, she chose exactly the wrong person to try that on.

Hilda isn't lying about being tired though. Her mentor from Jeralt's mercenaries is actually working with her on refining her incredible strength, which means she actually has to use that incredible strength, and the reason she doesn't usually do that is because it takes a lot out of her. That's why Old Bloods were often characterized in the past as being slightly lazy, because actually doing something superhuman is superhumanly exhausting, and to replenish her strength she can either eat a lot (which she doesn't want to because she has an image to maintain) or sleep a lot (which she wants to do but can't find the time to).

"And what do you mean everyone knows I'm strong?" Hilda pouts. "I'm a delicate maiden! I shouldn't even be on the battlefield!"

Claude poorly hides a snort and Hilda narrows her eyes at him. Raphael seems to find Hilda's statement equally amusing. "But you're the strongest of all of us Hilda! I think you're just being modest!" He says cheerfully. He pats her on the back. "Don't be so down on yourself!"

Hilda groans and Claude chuckles. They bid goodbye to Raphael for now. After Teach's class in the morning the Golden Deer don't all stay together. Hilda sulks as the two of them make their way over to a different room for Seteth's lesson on the history of various weapons in warfare.

"It's fine Hilda. You can lean on me." Claude grins. "You've done this for me before so I'll help you out this time."

"But you're all… _hard_." Hilda grumbles. She pokes him in the shoulder. "See? Just bone. That's not comfortable."

"Sorry I'm not soft." Claude says sarcastically. "I'm not a girl so I'm not naturally soft, and I'm also not fat. _Excuse_ me."

"You better be sorry. Why couldn't you just be a girl Claude?" Hilda huffs, now smiling. "Instead you're _male_, ugh."

"I'll endeavor to improve." He says with a deep bow. "So sorry, oh person of superior gender."

"You got that right." Hilda says. She yawns again, but not exaggerated. "Ugh… your shoulder might have to do though. I'm pooped."

"Or you could just lie on the desk. It's probably more comfortable than me."

"But then how will I relentlessly distract you in class even while I'm asleep?" Hilda asks with a tired smile.

"I'm sure you'll find a way."

Hilda successfully manages to sleep through class. Claude is fairly sure Seteth notices, so Claude makes a point of rubbing Hilda's back to make it look like maybe something is wrong and Seteth, who is surprisingly soft at heart despite his stern exterior, leaves them alone during class.

Hilda also manages to distract him even while asleep by sleeping partially on his desk because she knows he won't risk waking her up and therefore subtly getting in the way of everything he's trying to do. "_Good for you Hilda. Mission accomplished._"

When the class has ended Claude gently shakes Hilda awake. He mutters for her to play along when Seteth comes over to ask if she's alright and manages to concoct a nice sob story right on the spot about just receiving news that a friend had perished in an Almyran raid. That's not exactly unusual, so it's an easy story to sell.

As soon as they're out the door and out of Seteth's earshot Hilda whines. "Carry me Claude! I'm soooo tired!" and leans on him. "I've carried you before! It's only fair you return the favor!"

"You've carried me when I haven't asked for it." Claude corrects. "I have no obligation to carry you. Not sure I could carry you unless you piggybacked anyways. I don't have your sheer arm strength."

"Boo…" Hilda pouts. "Come on Claude, this is a golden opportunity for you to feel me up. What sort of guy would pass this opportunity?"

"One who doesn't want his arms to ache later." Claude shoots back, smirking. "Do you offer this to people often to get them to carry you? You'll have to up your game with me."

"Of course I don't. No one else has earned the honor of having me offer this." Hilda huffs.

"Basically you're saying you know I won't take advantage of the situation."

"I dunno, maybe that's what I mean, maybe not." Hilda hums with a coy smirk. "Care to find out?"

Yes, he very much does want to find out, but Claude is pretty sure that's the hormonal side of him talking. Also, he's fairly sure she's just trying to bait him into carrying her. "Nah. I value not having aching arms before training this afternoon. Jarvis is a hard taskmaster. I'm not going to let you bait me."

"You're no fun. Bad friend. Boo." Hilda grumbles. Her coquettish smile fades now that her plan has failed. "Hate you."

"Love you too Hilda." Claude chuckles. He pats her on the back and she scrunches up her nose at him. "Are you going to join me for lunch, or do you want to go sleep?"

"I should eat." She sighs. "Will you at least get food for me?"

"Of course. _Almost_ anything for my dear friend." Claude smirks. He patronizingly pats her head this time, and the withering glare she sends him is well-earned.

"Next time _you're_ tired I'm going pat your head then." Hilda growls, as if that is somehow a threat. "And I'm going to be _super_ smug about it."

"Oh no, how horrible. A pretty girl is going to pat my head." Claude gasps. "Terrible, truly."

"Fuck you Claude."

"Hate you? Bad friend?" Claude recounts. He's wearing a shit-eating grin right now. "Boo?"

"Shut up."

###

Claude never thought watching the mandatory hand-to-hand tournament could be so informative. He's participating too of course, but he's getting his ass kicked. Apparently half the people in the elite classes can mop the floor with him. It's unnerving actually. Claude prides himself on being a dangerous fighter in any situation, he's trained in hand-to-hand, but Petra, Edelgard, Caspar, Dimitri, Dedue, Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix, Raphael, Hilda, and even _Mercedes_ managed to lay him out flat.

Granted some of those fights were brutally unfair due to some peoples' natural advatnages. Hilda has crazy strength, Raphael and Dedue might as well not even feel the hits they take, and Mercedes is probably going to win just because no one can damage her in any way. Claude tried to punch her and his hand sunk into her body up to his wrist. She didn't even really fight back. She calmly tied him up with her stretchy "hair" as he tried to pull his hand free and was pronounced the winner.

Bad enough to let Hilda compete, but letting an Ooze fight in a hand-to-hand tournament is like giving someone a horse in a footrace. There's just no competition.

It _is_ funny to watch all these powerful fighters fall to sweet, polite, gentle Mercedes though. The tournament acts as a showcase of all the things she can do with her body. Even though she could realistically just walk towards any given person until she corners them and then engulf them, Mercedes puts on more of a show than that. Her main way of fighting seems to be to stretch and whip her "hair" around to attack or grab, but she can do the same with her hands if she wants, or she can collapse into a puddle and take up a huge area on the ground and trap anyone who walks into it, or she can change her form entirely so that she's basically just one large whip that lashes out at her opponent.

Oozes are as interesting as they are dangerous. To actually injure one you either need to turn them into small enough pieces that they can't reform (very difficult) or use magic (easier, but not trivial). Their body composition is also weird. Claude speaks of Mercedes having "hair" or "hands", but the truth is that Mercedes looks like whatever she wants to look like and every part of her body, even her clothes, is the exact same substance. She only looks human because she wants to look human, because oozes do not look human by default. A "newborn" ooze would just be a formless blob ("newborn" in quotation marks because oozes aren't _born_ per say. An ooze with sufficient mass can divide itself, and choose if it's copy keeps all their memories or not).

"_Wait._" Claude frowns. He's mulling this over as he watches Mercedes take on Dedue. "_Mercedes has a crest, and parents, and a birth record saying that she was born to those parents. I saw it when I snooped around in Seteth's office before. Oozes would have one parent, and not one human parent much less two, and they certainly shouldn't have a crest. There's something that doesn't line up there._"

Oozes can also be acidic. They can adjust the acidity of their body with incredible precision. If Mercedes wanted to make just a fingertip acidic she could. Claude can think of some uses for an ooze in combat...

Mercedes wins to the surprise of absolutely no one. Dedue is flat on his back, struggling to pull his arms free of the peach-colored puddle trapping his limbs while the rest of Mercedes kneels next to him, smiling politely.

Who would have guessed Mercedes would be the best in hand-to-hand? That also solves the question of why she was out so late at night. Oozes don't have to sleep at all.

Claude would also like to think he would have done better if they were just allowed to use daggers or something. Maybe he needs to shore up on his fistfighting.

###

Hilda huffs in annoyance as she darts around the monastery. Claude's birthday is on an inconvenient day. It's only two days before the Rite of Rebirth as well as just being a school day. Blah. Worse than that is that she just can't _find_ Claude. It's past breakfast, class starts in half an hour, and he's not in his room, he's not in her room, and he's not at the classroom or the dining hall.

"_Claude, you better not be snooping this early in the morning._" Hilda gripes. "_I swear to the goddess…_"

She peeks into the Blue Lions and Black Eagles classrooms too, but doesn't find Claude. She does find a sleeping Linhardt in the Black Eagles classroom and Ashe and Petra having a conversation in the Blue Lions room. Hilda has no idea what the conversation is about, but she does know that both of them look unreasonably excited.

Those two really need to be less enthusiastic about each other. It's making everyone else feel jealous. Yes, everyone gets it, you're both super happy to have a cute/hot foreign not-quite boyfriend/girlfriend. Stop being so painfully adorable about it.

But Claude isn't there, so what now? Maybe the library? She doesn't want to walk all the way up there… but she will. Claude better appreciate this! She's putting in effort here!

She marches up to the library. Lysithea is there, sleepinging on a desk. The small girl has probably been there all night. Claude isn't there though.

"I swear to the Goddess…" Where _is_ he? She usually doesn't have this much of an issue locating him.

That problem ends up solving itself. Claude ends up finding Hilda. He's walking at a brisk pace and despite his smile is clearly a bit on edge. "Hilda!"

"Claude!" She shouts back. She stomps towards him. "Where have you been?!"

"I've been by the lake." Claude says simply. That's not an explanation, and Hilda is about to complain, but then Claude throws an arm over her shoulder and leans in. "Someone behind me, adult, female, brown hair, but dressed in a student's outfit. I'm going to go left. You turn right and then double back. Try and grab them and drag them aside then call for me. Look out of the corner of your eyes so they don't notice you looking at them." He whispers.

Hilda nods. Realizing she needs to keep up the facade of what she was doing before, she grumbles loudly: "Just meet me by the classroom alright? I have to go back and get it." She makes a point of shoving off the arm he's put over his shoulder and stomping off to the right. As she's turning she watches out of the corner of her eye and spots the person Claude was talking about. The woman is watching her go, so Hilda doesn't risk watching for too long.

Hilda takes another turn as quickly as she can to get out of line of sight of the woman. As this happens she reaches up and undoes her pigtails and uses a wink and purr to borrow a hat from a student who's reading nearby, promising to return it in a few minutes. With her hair changed and a hat pulled down in front of her face she doubles back in a quick walk and glances around to find Claude. He's just reaching the other end of the pathway with the woman still stalking behind him.

The woman glances back and Hilda lets her eyes drift to the wall and trees, making it look like her gaze was just casually going across the woman rather than staring at her. Claude has taught her a bunch of little tricks over the months she's known him and they're coming in handy now. She's also made sure to change how she walks. Her usual walk is a strut with a very obvious swing to her hips and a bit of a bounce in her step, so she's intentionally walking in a more nondescript and normal fashion right now.

She closes in on the woman (hopefully) without arousing suspicion. She turns the corner, sees that there are a lot less people on this path as it's right in front of the student houses… and there's a convenient gap between Professor Byleth's room and the sauna.

Not wasting the opportunity, Hilda dashes forwards and snaps her arms around the woman in a vice grip. She barks "Claude!" and hauls the woman into the convenient gap. She notices the woman is trying to grab something in her pockets, so she forcefully pulls the woman's hands behind her back with one hand and shoves the woman onto the ground with the other.

"Isn't it lovely to have a friend who will assault a random person for you without questioning it?" Claude says cheerily as he strolls into this small gap. "Nicely done Hilda."

"There better be a good reason for this." She huffs. "I had to borrow someone's hat to pull this off, and put my hair down. My _hair_ Claude! That's my entire image!"

Claude laughs heartily. The woman Hilda is pinning sighs deeply, then speaks. "You are by far the most frustrating person I've ever instructed Claude."

"And by frustrating you mean competent." Claude grins.

"That too." The woman admits.

"What's going on exactly?" Hilda asks.

"Ah, right. Introductions are in order! Hilda, this is Acrim, my stealth teacher for the month. Acrim, this is Hilda. She's objectively the best."

"I can see that." Acrim sighs. "Can she let me up now?"

Claude smiles impishly. "Only once I'm sure I win."

"The objective was to avoid getting caught while keeping the public oblivious. It was _not_ to drag me into an alley and pin me to the ground." Acrim scolds.

"Hey, I chose somewhere where not many people were watching and I dealt with the problem." Claude says. He pauses when Hilda raises her eyebrow at him and then amends: "Okay, _Hilda_ dealt with the problem, but that counts too."

Claude and Acrim have a stare-down for a moment, and Acrim finally gives in. "Fine, you dealt with the problem effectively. You _win_."

"Hilda, release her." Claude says with absolute smugness. Hilda does so, and the woman sits up. "Where did you get a student's outfit anyways?"

"I 'borrowed' one. It wasn't difficult."

"You stole one." Claude laughs. "Of course."

Hilda shakes her head. "I'll be back in a second."

She returns the hat and makes her way to her room to grab a package. Claude better be in the same place or she's going to be furious. She _will _give him this damn gift before class starts. She spent a lot of time making this! She could have been making jewelry but instead she spent two weeks sewing and stitching this thing.

She makes her way back over to the gap to find that Acrim is gone but Claude he's still there. He still looks supremely proud of himself.

"What's in the box Hilda?" Claude asks. "Actually, why _do_ you have a box?"

"It's for you, duh." She shoves the box at him. "Your _birthday_, remember?"

"Oh, _oh_, right!" He says. "I totally forgot."

"Of course you did." Hilda sighs. "Just open the stupid box."

He does so. He pulls out the object inside and studies it with wide eyes.

"It took forever to design this thing." Hilda huffs. "It's a bit thick, and it'll be a bit heavy as a consequence of all the hidden pockets and the padding I put in to conceal whatever's hidden in there, but it should be useful."

"Wow." Claude runs his hands over the coat. The coat is simple but elegant. A plain beige color with a mostly smooth surface interrupted only by large decorative seams that actually act as the entrance to hidden pockets. The pockets are specifically made so that someone running their hands over the garment won't find them. The entrance to any given outer pocket is just under a seam so that someone's hands running downward over the outfit will hit the seam and go over the entrance, and the entrance itself is disguised because it looks like part of the seam. The coat has four large outer pockets with inside dividers in those pockets to make eight small compartments all padded by thick cloth. The inside and outside of the cloak are actually divided, though you can't tell by looking at the garment, allowing Hilda add a number of pockets to the inside as well without it conflicting with the outer pockets.

"The cloak also has a structure to it. The fabric around the shoulders and waist are extra stiff, so it helps keep the cloak a bit away from your body to stop it from looking weird and lumpy." Hilda explains. "The outer fabric is also naturally stiff to a lesser extent so that it won't bulge if you put something into the outer pockets. It's not perfect, but as long as you're prudent it should work fine."

"You're the best Hilda." Claude says in mild awe. He slips his hands into each pocket, taking note of the padding and the size. He finds a compartment on the inside of the chest that is extra stiff, he thinks it actually has wood in there to protect it, that seems designed to hold vials. There's also small pockets inside the sleeves that are clearly designed to hold daggers so he can just pull his hand into the sleeve and grab one nice and simple. This is probably the best gift he's gotten _ever_.

"I should warn you it's pretty bulky. It has all that extra padding and pockets, not to mention you're going to put stuff in those pockets, so it's not going to be a light coat by any means." Hilda warns. "Take care what you put in it too. It has padding, but something super fragile won't survive if you take a tumble. Any vials should be fine, that particular pocket actually has a wooden box inside the padding to help protect it, but anything else only has padding and nothing else."

Claude honestly doesn't care. This is so useful he can't even describe it. He's not going to need a belt anymore, he can just hide everything in here. "Hilda… how long did this take?"

"Two weeks." She grumbles. "You better be grateful."

"I am." He says without hesitation. In a rare moment of impulse he leans forward and hugs her, if only briefly. "You're the best Hilda."

"That's the second time you've said that." Hilda huffs. She's smiling now though.

"So you know I mean it then." Claude sounds genuine. How rare.

"Yeah." She feels unreasonably proud of herself right now. "Yeah I do."

###

Claude listens closely to the security plan as it's discussed in the morning of the Rite. They've been over this beforehand, but a refresher is always appreciated.

"The Black Eagles are to be responsible for guarding the student areas, including classrooms, dormitories, and the dining hall. The Blue Lions will deal with the Knight's quarters, the stables, and the graveyard. The Golden Deer will be responsible for the cathedral." Shamir begins by saying.

That's convenient for Claude considering the Holy Mausoleum is a likely target and is located in the back of the Cathedral. He's made sure he will be stationed there so anyone trying to get into the mausoleum will have to get by him.

The actual monastery guards are going to be patrolling the outside of the cathedral, so the Deer are responsible for patrolling the insides. The Rite of Rebirth itself is long and elaborate, and while it does partially take place in the cathedral that's only near the end of the rite. The long ceremony starts near the entrance of the monastery, goes through the gardens where there is a smaller ceremony and a banquet that lasts several hours. Only when the sun falls will Rhea and the faithful proceed to the cathedral for one last ceremony.

That's plenty of time for the invaders to try and get into the mausoleum before the procession gets there. Once the procession is here Claude doubts the invaders will try to get in due to all the eyes in the area, so they just have to worry about the time before that.

"The Knights of Seiros will deal with the protection of the Archbishop herself." Shamir continues. "If you spot trouble call for the monastery guards or me, not the knights. You can engage the threats if you feel you can handle them, but do _not_ take risks. If you are unsure, stay back and call for help. Understood?"

"Understood!" The students say in chorus.

"Good. I understand you've divided up the monastery between yourselves already, so I'll trust your plan. Make sure to communicate between yourselves if you notice anything unusual. The Rite starts in half an hour. Be prepared."

With that, Shamir leaves them. The three classes immediately break out into nervous murmurs as the three house leaders converse.

"So you're taking Dedue and Mercedes as planned, correct Claude? Hubert and Petra too?" Dimitri murmurs.

"Yep." Claude nods. "I've already filled in Lorenz and Raphael on what the Lions will be doing and Ignatz and Leonie for the Eagles."

The idea is that since Claude's group is most likely to actually confront the invaders, he should have all the most competent fighters. Himself, Hilda, Lysithea, Marianne, Hubert, Petra, Dedue, and Mercedes.

Marianne is the only questionable keep. Claude is banking on the fact that if things take a huge swing for the worse Marianne will slip off the necklace and do damage control. Succubus charm magic is no joke. Claude hopes (he really does hope because he's counting on this) that she could hold most of the room in her thrall if she needed to. Hopefully it won't come to that, he knows she's reluctant to take off the necklace, but it's the sort of power he can't afford to pass up at the moment.

The teachers are all fine with this. Hanneman and Manuela are less strategically and tactically inclined than their house leaders, so they left most of the details to them. Byleth didn't offer any protest so Claude can only assume the man doesn't mind.

The other classes leave to take their positions. Raphael and Lorenz go with the Lions and Ignatz and Lenoie go with the Eagles.

Claude has his group patrol in order of their speed. That's to say Petra takes the most distant parts of the cathedral, then Mercedes, then Hilda, then Hubert, then Lysithea, then Marianne, then Dedue, then himself right near the entrance to the mausoleum. Byleth wanders the entirety of the cathedral to check in on everyone and investigate noises and answer questions.

There is the small issue that just patrolling all day is mind-numbing. They get breaks of course. When the banquet is going on a servant is sent to give them all food, and they eat one at a time so only one person is ever not patrolling, but just seeing the same things over and over is mind-numbing.

"_There has to be a better way to do patrols._" Claude thinks to himself. "_But how would that be? How do patrols usually work?_"

That seems like information he would know, but it's not. He may have observed patrols and knows how to exploit them, but he never gave much thought to how and why they're structured the way they are.

Claude himself is actually hiding in an alcove above the entrance to the mausoleum. He doesn't want the intruders to see him. It's fine if they get in the mausoleum so long as he has time to get backup. He presumes there must be some sort of magic barrier around the mausoleum in the first place or else people could just teleport in at any point, so he should have time to get the others before the intruders can get out with what they need. If they have to fight in the stairway, hey, that's fine. They can just obliterate anything in the stairway with spells, or Mercedes can block it off and turn her body to acid to melt anyone who tries to push past.

And so he waits. Teach drops by every half an hour or so to check on him, but otherwise he sits still and waits. He's probably the best choice for this position because he's very familiar with waiting. He's had to do things like this before; staying motionless in one place for a long period of time. It's a bit mind-numbing but he's used to it.

Claude waits for hours. He doesn't have to keep a particularly close eye on the entrance because he's literally right above it. Anyone walking to the entrance he's going to see, so he spends time making notes in his notebook and glancing down at the entryway after every sentence he writes.

As it turns out, the intruders aren't very subtle at all. Some look like priests, but many of them are openly carrying weapons and a few even have plague masks. Not suspicious at _all_, huh? Claude is surprised they managed to get into the cathedral without getting noticed. Such a large group with openly carried weapons? The guards really can't do anything huh?

Maybe he's being unfair. There's a good chance this group got teleported or something, as even the monastery guards couldn't miss something this obvious. The masked individuals of their group walk up to the door and quietly start casting something. Something bright around the handles shatters, and the group pushes through the doorway.

As soon as they're out of sight Claude climbs down from his perch. He dashes to find someone else to alert, the closest being Dedue, and barks for him to gather the others. Shouts start to echo through the cathedral as his group alert each other of the danger, and within a dozen seconds Byleth is in the main room. It only takes a minute for everyone to assemble at the entrance (and to send word to the guards, and by extension Shamir, that there are intruders).

"Alright. Dedue, you're up in front. Mercedes, you need to be ready to step in if things get too overwhelming for him. Everyone else, well, I think you know where you need to be." Claude says with authority. "We ready?"

There's a quiet chorus of people saying yes, as well as a silent nod from Marianne. Claude takes a deep breath and gives Dedue a nod.

"Alright, let's kill some thieves."

* * *

**I could go on, but I think I want to leave the battle for next chapter. This is already a decent length.**

**Next chapter is going to be interesting. I have certain things planned. Not many things, granted, but things.**


	16. The Rite of Rebirth

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**Here's the Rite of Rebirth chapter. Fight scenes are not my forte, but I'll give it my best shot.**

* * *

Just from looking at the stairway Claude can tell the catacombs are more ancient than the cathedral above them. Even from Claude's limited knowledge of historical architecture he can recognize that these patterns are from a time before the founding of the Empire.

He can think about the mysteries of the really old catacombs another time though, preferably after the thieves are dead.

The group tries to be quiet as they descend the stairs, but Claude was not particularly quiet about calling for his teammates nor can Dedue reduce the sound of his heavy armor all that much, so Claude expects that the thieves know they're coming.

With the end of the stairs in sight Dedue pulls out his shield and puts on his helmet. Everyone else readies their weapons and spells appropriately.

To Claude's surprise, they are _not _met with a barrage of spells upon stepping off the last stair. The intruders are spread out among the entirety of the room, investigating various items and pictures on the walls. How curious that they don't even know where their target actually is. They really should be moving faster than this too. How unprofessional.

Most of the thieves are mindlessly looking around, but there is one individual in particular who worries Claude, mostly because he never saw them go down the stairs. The man has a horse (that Claude also never saw go down the stairs), and he's decked out in black plate armor and has an imposing scythe lying across the back of his mount.

That black knight had to have teleported into this place. Everyone else doesn't seem overly dangerous, but that knight worries him. The knight is also the only one who's actually noticed them

"Steer clear of the knight." Byleth instructs in a whisper. "He's dangerous. I'll handle him, unless you have a complaint Claude?"

"Nope. Be my guest." That solves the question of how the knight will be dealt with. If the Demon can handle him, that works for Claude. "Split up into two groups. Dedue, Petra, Hubert, and Marianne on one side, Mercedes, Hilda, Me, and Lysithea on the other. Each group takes one side of the room, staying clear of the knight in the center. Hubert, you're in charge of your group. Sorry Mercedes, you're going to have to frontline."

"That's quite alright…" She murmurs.

At this point, one of the thieves actually notices them at the base of the stairs. His voice, shrill and frantic, cries out: "We've been spotted! Students!"

"Buy me time!" A mage at the far end of the room shouts. "Death Knight, prove your worth and deal with them!"

The black knight, or Death Knight as he's apparently known, responds in a low growl that is distorted either by his helmet or magic. "I do not take orders from _you_. These weaklings are not worth my time. If you cannot defeat them yourselves, you do not _deserve _a victory."

With that worrying line said, the students attack. Mercedes leads the charge on Claude's side. Well, "charge" is probably a bit of an exaggeration. Mercedes is slow, because she's mostly liquid… slime… gel… something.

Point is, Mercedes leads, and boy does that simplify things. Apparently none of these intruders actually know how to deal with oozes, because despite the fact that it's clearly not doing anything they keep throwing fire, arrows, light magic, and blades at her and she keeps absorbing all the hits (and dissolving anything solid that enters her) with a calm smile on her face.

Hilda doesn't have to do much thanks to Mercedes. She occasionally grabs a rock to throw through someone's skull at speeds rivalling an arrow, but with Mercedes up in front she doesn't have much need to swing her hammer. Mercedes dissolves any fool stupid enough to get close to them anyways.

Lysithea is a maniac. She hurls a nearly unending stream of dark magic spells with a ferocity that really doesn't fit this serious but not desperate situation. Claude suspects she just doesn't have much of a chance to let loose and is taking full advantage of this opportunity.

Claude himself focuses on the mages. The situation isn't too dangerous in his mind. The intruders, Death Knight aside, are not too skilled, so the mages are the second biggest threat. He was expecting this to be much more of an issue considering the not inconsiderable setup there must have been for this operation, but these thieves are really not a challenge.

Across the room Hubert's group is also doing fine. Dedue doesn't take magic as well as Mercedes does, but Marianne is there to heal him up and both Hubert and Petra know to deal with the mages first so they're making fine progress.

The main point of worry is Byleth and the Death Knight. The two of them control the center of the room, and no one on either side dares get close. The Death Knight has many advantages that worry Claude. He has a mount, he has a long reach weapon, and he has armor. Byleth has a steel sword, no armor at all, and no mount. Despite that, Byleth is leveraging the advantages he does have: dexterity and acrobatics.

Dexterity and not speed mind you. Byleth is precise to an incredible degree, and makes good use of his surroundings. If the Death Knight charges, Byleth puts a pillar or a sarcophagus in between them. If the Death Knight slows down, Byleth vaults off those same pillars and sarcophagi to close the distance and throw a flurry of precise strikes towards the eye slits of the knight's helmet. Sometimes Byleth stays as close as possible to the knight to stay inside the reach of the knight's weapon, forcing the knight to gallop away or make an awkward strike with the handle of his scythe

Byleth also apparently has a dozen daggers on his person at all times, because he seems to pull them out of thin air every once in a while to chuck at the knight.

Still, considering the students are winning the sides the fight should have been over quickly. It _would _have been over quickly if it weren't for a certain mage at the back of the room.

"Yes! It's… what is this?" The mage's voice shouts, then grows quieter. "A sword…?"

Claude glances at the mage and nearly chokes on his own spit. There, in the mage's hands, being held daintily away from his body like it's some undesirable piece of rotten meat, is the Sword of the Creator. That thing has been thought lost for _centuries_, and here it is just underneath the monastery! Speaking of which… "Get that sword before they teleport away!" Claude shouts. "Petra!"

"I have understanding!" The girl shouts back. He can see her leap high in the air and push off a pillar at the height of her jump, sending her soaring over her opponents to land near the mage. The mage hastily brings up the sword in defence of himself as Petra lashes out with her own blade. The skill disparity is massive, so it's no surprise when Petra lands a hit on the mage's leg and the mage crumples to the floor.

That's not the end of the matter though. The mage continues to swing the Sword of the Creator, and something horrific happens. The dull bone weapon starts to shudder, and black goop seeps out from the hole in the hilt onto the mage's hand and starts engulphing his whole body a moment later. The man's horrific screams bring the whole room to a halt, even Byleth and the Death Knight, and everyone watches the man's body be consumed by the goop.

It doesn't stop there. The goop bulges and swells, and Petra has to scramble back to avoid the writhing mass. The goop then solidifies into something that looks like feet, claws, a long mouth, and scales.

A reptilian monstrosity stands before all of them. It's twice the size of a standard demonic beast with empty, unseeing eye sockets, grotesquely elongated arms with claws the size of a sword that drag along the ground, a mouth that resembles a crocodile's filled with a hundred sharp teeth and black saliva that emits a noxious odor (Claude suspects a toxin of some sort), and one gaunt wing that sticks out of it's back just below the neck. It looks like someone combined a crocodile and an iguana, blew it up to the size of a small house, and then stuck a single malnourished wyvern wing on it's back.

"Ahh…" The Death Knight breathes, breaking the stunned silence. "How promising. Maybe this will be an appropriate challenge…"

The knight then ignores Byleth entirely in favor of staring down the newly-made monster. He raises a hand at the beast, then (to Claude's surprise) fires off a thunder spell at the thing. The damage is negligible, but Claude suspects the spell was purely to goad it into fighting.

The monster roars. It's a raspy, gurgling, unnatural sound. It's like hearing a thousand people laughing while choking on blood all at once. Despite the fact that it can't see, the thing stomps directly towards the Death Knight, and even swipes a claw directly at him. Apparently it doesn't need sight to fight.

All the thieves are now cowering in the corners of the room, totally unprepared for the turn this battle has taken. Claude will admit he doesn't have much of an idea on what to do either. This wasn't exactly something he was prepared for.

Byleth, on the other hand, apparently is totally ready for this and starts barking orders. "Everyone, surround it! Attack from all sides and someone will inevitably hit a weak spot!"

It's a hasty plan, but it makes sense. They know nothing about this creature, but if they rain enough attacks down on it one of them will hit something important eventually.

"No... you will all stay out of my way!" The Death Knight warns. "Interfere, and I will be forced to deal with you."

"You can try." Byleth says curtly. "Or, you can cooperate, or you can leave. I don't have time for your tantrum."

If the situation weren't so serious Claude might laugh. He's not sure if calling the Death Knight's "I must fight the most dangerous thing around in single combat!" shtick a _tantrum _is totally accurate or a massive misrepresentation.

"I care not for your wants…" The Death Knight growls. He dodges a claw swipe, then a bite, and responds with a large slash to the monster's arm.

"Then get out." Byleth orders. "Shoo."

The Death Knight responds to that dismissal by trying to backhand Byleth with his scythe without even looking at him, and Byleth responds by calmly side-stepping the attack and jabbing his sword into the knight's horse's leg, sending both the rider and the mount sprawling to the ground.

"As I was saying." Byleth says, now standing over the prone knight. He kicks the scythe away from the man's grasping hands. "Shoo. Also, watch your back when you fight. You have tunnel vision."

The knight responds with an inelegant growl, and then grabs something in his pocket and vanishes from sight along with his horse.

With that problem out of the way, everyone can focus on the monster. Even when surrounding the thing it's still a menace. Mercedes attempts to hold the monster's attention, and attempts to engulf the monster's head so she can dissolve it, but any grip she tries to get on the monster ends with it violently swinging its head and sending pieces of Mercedes flying around the room.

Good thing she's an ooze and can just pull herself back together, but Claude would really have preferred if Mercedes could just consume this monster and be done with it.

Claude also finds out very quickly what the poison does when Dedue takes a bite that manages to go through his armor. Dedue's movements quickly slow down though, and he says. "I cannot feel my chest anymore, and it is difficult to move my arms. I fear I must retreat."

It's not a hard deduction to make on what the saliva does. "Everyone, the saliva inflicts paralysis! Avoid getting bit!"

That's easier said than done. Sure, maybe Petra and Byleth can dodge like champions, but Hilda does one thing and one thing only: she hits hard. She doesn't dodge, she doesn't block, she just smashes things.

Giving Hilda an opportunity to smash the monster is Claude's prime goal at the moment. Everyone's spells and arrows are doing _something_, but it's slow, and every second this thing isn't dead is another second that it's stomping around the room biting and clawing and whipping its tail. It seems to particularly dislike Lysithea, and consistently follows the path of her spells to try and strike at the girl.

Hilda does manage to get her attack off though. Claude orders Lysithea on a path that leads the monster right past Hilda, and the girl takes the opportunity to take a mighty overhead swing and smashes her hammer directly into the monster's side.

Scales break and bones snap under the force of her swing, and the monster collapses with a giant dent in the side of its body. Everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief, and Hilda retracts her gore-covered hammer with a smug grin. "Problem solved!" She looks to Claude. "Can we go now? It's dusty down here."

Claude nods. "We have to escort the thieves up of course, but-" Claude's eyes widen when he sees the monster's head twitch and turn. Nothing has ever survived a hit from Hilda before. He's also acutely aware that since Hilda hasn't moved away, the monster is absolutely in range to bite her.

Maybe he shouts a warning, but he can't remember. He's moving before he really processes what he's doing. All he knows is that Hilda is looking oddly at him one moment, and he's pushing her aside while giant teeth bite into his chest.

"_I really hope I survive this._" Claude thinks absently. He can hear shouting and see the flash of spells as he's lifted into the air by the monster. He can't feel any part of his body, and his vision is fading. "_Apparently friends get you killed in Fodlan too, just instead of being backstabbed you get eaten by giant reptiles..._"

###

Ignatz would have thought that Cyril would have been kept out of the whole protection plan. As young as the students are, Cyril is even younger. Rather than keeping him away from potential danger though, Shamir has apparently assigned Cyril to be Rhea's bodyguard which is about as close to the action as possible considering this involves potential assassins.

Yes, he knows that the assassination plot is probably a distraction, but there's still a chance that the assassination plot is real, and if it _is _real then Cyril is being put in more danger!

Ignatz quietly brings this up to Shamir, who is also responsible for Rhea's protection, and the assassin just smirks. "Don't worry about it. Cyril is in the safest place he can possibly be right now."

"He's right next to the person people might be attacking!"

"I know."

"But-"

"He's next to Rhea, which means he's in the center of all our defences." Shamir reminds him. "The students, the knights, Jeralt's mercenaries, the guards. Rhea's at the center of all of them, and by extension so is Cyril. If we hadn't let him help, he would have snuck out to help anyways, so this is the best choice."

Well, when she puts it like that Ignatz really can't argue.

"Besides." Shamir mutters under her breath. It's quiet enough that Ignatz isn't sure he's even meant to hear it. "There's no way Rhea will let anything happen to him…"

All things considered, protecting Rhea seems like an easy assignment to Ignatz. Like Shamir said, the knights and Jeralt's mercenaries are here, so the students are just redundant protection. The eagles got the easy assignment apparently. They don't get to participate in the feast which is unfortunate, but all things considered it's not a bad mission. They're not expecting assassins anyways.

Not _expecting_ any. That doesn't mean some don't arrive anyways. Apparently the obvious letter was telling the truth. The Eagles really didn't have any way of realizing the assassins were there. They come in with the crowd and look like any other faithful pilgrim. When Rhea steps forward to speak to the crowd flanked by Cyril and Catherine, the assassins strike.

Ignatz can't tell exactly how many assassins are actually here with how the crowd suddenly starts running in all directions. People scream, weapons are drawn all around, and the gardens devolve into chaos. Ignatz along with Bernadetta and Dorothea is stationed on the roof of the dining hall so he can shoot down onto targets, but there are so many people in such a tight space he can't risk shooting an arrow for fear of hitting someone innocent.

He does get a good look at exactly what Shamir was talking about earlier though. When an assassin manages to slip by Catherine and approach Rhea, it's not Cyril that takes him down. Cyril tries to step forward, he has his axe out and a fierce snarl on his face, but Rhea steps in front of the boy with sword and shield drawn and eliminates the assassin in a single strike. This happens more than one. Every time Cyril tries to fight someone Rhea herself intervenes to eliminate the threat.

At one point Rhea even grabs Cyril by the collar like a mother cat grabbing a kitten and hauls him behind her so she can deal with the danger. Cyril's frustration is visible as he's consistently denied the opportunity to help, and he's even being protected by the person he's ostensibly supposed to be protecting.

Rhea is also fascinating to watch. She flips between rage when fighting to calm fury when watching others fight to gentle concern when dealing with Cyril. It's like watching her switch between three personalities, often within the span of a few seconds each.

Ignatz feels bad that there isn't much he can do. He, Bernadetta and Dorothea really can't contribute to this fight because of all the civilians in the way. Shamir, usually an archer, is instead using a lance to fight for the same reason.

"_I really need to learn another weapon_." Ignatz decides silently. This is the second time he's been useless in a fight. He still remembers how he and Marianne got hunted down in the forest near Edmund when fighting those bandits, and missing one shot lead to him being almost totally helpless. "_I need a melee weapon. A sword? A lance? An axe? Gauntlets? Probably not an axe…_"

He can consider a new weapon once the fight is done. The crowd have mostly cleared out of the gardens, leaving only combatants behind. Most of the assassins might be dead, but there's still a few left, and Ignatz doesn't want to be completely useless so he draws his bow and starts shooting.

###

Claude is surprised he wakes up at all. He was honestly expecting to never wake up, or to wake up and see some afterlife. Pearly gates, blazing fires, something like that. He wasn't expecting to see the wooden roof of the infirmary, nor was he expecting someone to be leaning over him.

Even if he was expecting any of those things, he would also expect the person leaning over him to be Manuela, not Mercedes.

"Oh, you're awake." Mercedes says. She sounds surprised herself. Was she expecting him to die? "You weren't supposed to wake up for a few more days."

It's all Claude can do just to breathe. He can't feel any part of his body. He'd respond, but he can't make his voice work. Now that he thinks of it, he isn't really controlling his breathing either. When he tries to breath out, he can hear air going _into _his body.

It's at this point that Claude takes a proper look at his surroundings (as much as he can without being able to move his head). He's on a bed, and Mercedes is sitting next to him. He can't see if she's on a chair or something because his vision range doesn't stretch that far. Just at the bottom of his vision, on his face he thinks, is something cream-colored. Actually, judging by the way Mercedes is angling her arms, _both_ of her hands are on his body somewhere. One hand seems to be over his mouth for some reason, and he can't see where the other is.

Also, Mercedes' "hair" is doing… something. It's swelling and contracting rhythmically, and Claude can't guess why.

"You took quite a hit." Mercedes murmurs. "Punctured lungs, heart injury, several broken bones, cracked skull, severe blood loss… you're very lucky you had two healers on hand."

Claude would agree or nod, but he can't. His body just won't listen. All he can do is blink dumbly at her.

"Your organs are healed up, but you still have a few broken bones." Mercedes says. "You're on the brink of mana sickness right now. We have to keep pulling mana out of your body so we can keep using more healing magic, and it's a very slow process."

Mana sickness is something Claude is familiar with in theory, if not in practice. The short version is that a human (or half-elf in this case) body can only accept so much mana being forced into before it becomes dangerous. This is not to be confused with someone's mana pool though. A mana pool is a store of mana in your body for use in spells. The mana pushed into your body when you are healed is not directed at your mana pool, the mana is pushed into your cells, and human bodies are not designed to contain mana that way. Small amounts are not an issue, one won't get mana sickness from healing a large cut or a single broken limb, but extensive healing jobs mean a lot of mana is used, and the body can't contain it well.

Minor mana sickness is evidenced by profuse sweating, vomiting, and defecating as the body tries to expel excess mana through that sweat, vomit, and feces. If more mana is forced in faster than the body can expel it, you move on to severe mana sickness in which the excess mana starts to damage your cells, and at the same time your cells start to reproduce rapidly to try and create more cells to contain all the mana. This results in rapid tumor growth on and inside the body which is almost always fatal. Even if you could stop the tumor growth, there is still the issue of your cells degenerating from the excess mana causing mass organ failure.

"In addition, the paralyzing saliva the creature had was very potent." Mercedes continues. "We're still trying to eliminate it from your body. That's why you're probably still numb at the moment."

Well that explains that.

"However… the paralysis has also extended to your major organs." Mercedes says. "Your heart and lungs are not working at the moment."

If Claude could move he would almost certainly be short of breath after hearing that. His heart _isn't working_? How is he even alive then!?

"Right now I'm using magic to manually pump your heart." Mercedes explains. "And I have one of my hands down your throat with a hollow center, and am using my hair to pump air into your lungs."

That's what her hair is doing? That rhythmic expanding and contracting is responsible for his _breathing _right now? Mercedes is manually operating his heart and lungs… ooh…

Claude feels faint, and he must look it too because Mercedes says a soft "sleep well" as Claude falls back into unconsciousness.

The next time he wakes up he's greeted by much the same sight. Mercedes is still sitting next to him with a hand over his mouth. Claude finds he can actually move a bit this time, and he can turn his head far enough to see the side-table next to his bed. On the table are a number of large bottles, some full and some empty, one of which Mercedes has a tentacle of her hair dipped into and is slowly draining.

"Awake again?" Mercedes hums. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"

Claude doesn't feel _pain_, but he does feel… weird. He can now feel the tube going down his throat, and it's possibly the most uncomfortable thing he's ever experienced. Almost rivaling that discomfort though is how he can feel his uneven heartbeat as Mercedes forces it to pump blood through his body. He also can't really talk, so he slightly shakes his head instead.

"Good." The girl smiles. "You were out for a few days this time. The first time you were unconscious for a week."

So it's been a week and a half since the mission and he's still not healed? That monster must have really messed him up.

"I'm sure you'll be glad to know you're expected to be out of the infirmary by the end of the week. Your body is almost healed enough to operate on it's own, and we've nearly purged the paralyzing agent from your body." She reports. "We'll both be out of here soon!"

"_Both?_" Claude thinks. He can't say that because Mercedes has a hand down his throat, but his confused stare is question enough.

"I'm the only one who can operate your lungs like this." Mercedes explains. "And it's not safe to transfer control of your heart to someone else, even a few seconds of mismanagement could be catastrophic, so I've been here just as long as you have, making sure you survive." She uses a tentacle from her hair to motion to the side-table with the bottles. "I've been using a steady supply of mana potions to keep up my mana levels so I can keep pumping your heart. I'm the only healer that can do this because I don't need to sleep."

Claude doesn't know what to make of that information. Mercedes has been sitting at this bedside, performing the life-saving operation of keeping his vital organs working, without any sort of sleep. He doesn't even want to consider the insane focus that must take, nor how his life has literally been in her hands for a week and a half. He might owe Hilda a few minor debts, but how on Earth is he going to repay a debt of this magnitude?

"Your classmates have dropped by quite frequently." Mercedes says. "Hilda in particular has been here every day after class. She's made quite a few threats about what will happen when you get out, so be careful~!"

Claude would chuckle, but he holds himself back. That might not be a good idea considering his current situation.

"Oh, and I should tell you. We recovered the sword." Mercedes says cheerily. "The mission was successful! Professor Eisner got in a little bit of trouble for your injury, and the church is being bothered by your grandfather for it, but otherwise everything went well.

It figures his grandfather only cares about him if he's literally on his deathbed. Also, he wants to know what happened to the sword! Claude raises his hands and tries to mimic swinging a blade, though his arms are so weak and shaky that he's not sure if he got the message across or just looked like he was flailing around like a helpless kitten.

"The sword?" Mercedes asks. Claude nods in relief. "It was returned to its resting place. The archbishop said it was a sin against the goddess to disturb such a relic, and that's what caused the mage to transform in the first place."

A sin against the goddess? Sounds like the church's usual excuse. He'll have to do some digging into what the actual reason behind the transformation was. It's good to know the Sword of the Creator is still down there in the mausoleum too. That's one more legendary relic he knows the location of.

"Incidentally, classes should be ending in half an hour. You might want to prepare for Hilda's visit if you don't think you're going to fall unconscious again." Mercedes giggles. "She's been very angry so far!"

Oh yay. He's totally going to get punched, isn't he? Or maybe he's going to get a severe glare.

It takes just over half an hour for the bell to sound, and Claude waits in vague anticipation for Hilda to show up and yell at him. He's not disappointed either. She walks into the infirmary right on schedule, notices Claude is awake, and stomps over to his bedside.

"Claude." Her voice is tight, nearly a growl, and her face is scrunched up into a glare. She looms over his prone form, and Claude manages to smile at her and quirk an eyebrow at her. "I hate you."

Claude brings up his hands and fumbles his fingers into the shape of a heart, and Hilda's expression grows even more severe. Claude knows full well he's provoking her, but that's what he does best.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Hilda snaps. She's obviously trying to keep her voice down, but she's also clearly furious. "You could have died. You almost died! If we didn't have Mercedes specifically you _would_ be dead!"

Claude pats her arm, and Hilda lets out an audible growl.

"You should have just yelled at me or something!" She says. "Or tackled me so we both got out of the way!"

Nevermind that the attack was coming directly behind her and he was in front of her, so there's no easy way he could have pushed her aside.

"It's sweet that you're worried Hilda." Mercedes giggles. She winks at Claude with a cheeky smile on her face. "But I'm sure Claude knew what he was doing. You could make your thanks a bit less aggressive, hmm?"

Hilda grumbles and huffs, but she does mutter out "thank you" even if her arms are crossed and she's not looking at him.

Claude would laugh if he was capable of it right now. Hilda's just mad he almost died and that it's kinda her fault. He knows she isn't actually ungrateful.

Also, he's surprised Mercedes can multitask like this. She's controlling his heart and lungs, ingesting mana potions, and listening and talking all the same time. It really is unnerving.

"You…" Hilda says menacingly, and leans down close to Claude's face. It would be a bit more intimidating if her hair wasn't falling on him and tickling his cheeks. "We're going to _talk,_ Claude."

"Ahh, a 'talk'." Mercedes giggles again. "Yes, you might want a private space for that, hmm?"

Hilda jumps in surprise, her cheeks starting to blush red. "What?"

"Well when most students 'talk' they tend to do it in their rooms." Mercedes hums. There's an amused sparkle in her eyes, and Claude suspects she's intentionally messing with Hilda. "Usually at night too."

"That was _not_ a euphemism!" Hilda protests. Her whole face is red now. "I actually mean a talk!"

"Oh, of course, silly me." Mercedes smiles brilliantly. "Please, carry on then. Don't mind me."

"No way." Hilda says. He looks at Claude again, fighting her embarrassment. "Once you're out, you're coming with me and you're sitting your ass down in my room-"

"Oh~"

"-and I am going to yell at you-"

"Aha~"

"-for being an idiot!" Hilda threatens.

"Hmm~"

"_Stop_ that! I told you it's not a euphemism!" Hilda practically shouts at Mercedes.

"Of course it's not." The older girl says sweetly. "Do you want me to teach you how to make blackleaf tea though, just in case?"

Hilda shoots Mercedes a look of pure murder and storms out of the room. Claude watches her leave with no small amount of amusement. When she's gone, Mercedes speaks again.

"She really shouldn't be threatening someone who's recovering." Mercedes tuts, but with a fond smile on her face. "She was more angry than usual, but no tears this time."

Something warm twists in Claude's gut at those words. Is that happiness? Guilt? Discomfort? All three? It's unusual to have someone aside from his parents actually care about his safety to any large degree.

"Hopefully she won't yell too much when you get out." Mercedes chuckles. "She was very worried, but don't let her push you around too much."

Claude is fairly sure he doesn't have to worry about that. Hilda might be angry, but she's not irrational. She'll vent a bit, he'll crack a joke and tease her, and it'll be over with. At least, that's how he hopes it'll happen. He's surprised she's mad in the first place. He expected her to be trying to suck up to him so she doesn't owe him anything. Then again, maybe that's his logic and not hers.

"_What would Hilda do…?_" Claude muses. "_Flatter me to encourage me to help her more in the future? Yeah, that makes more sense. Anger doesn't seem right._"

Then again, maybe he's underestimating how much a close friend means to her. After all, he probably wouldn't have put himself in so much danger for anyone else, so maybe her response to him being injured is different from someone else getting injured for her.

Or maybe he's just overthinking this.

###

It's nerve-wracking when the healers check if he can breath on his own again, and even more scary when they test his heartbeat. Both organs work without flaw though, and by Saturday he's able to leave the infirmary. That's not to say he's allowed to do anything vigorous anytime soon though. Having his entire chest pieced back together, damage from the paralytic saliva, and plain old not moving for two weeks has left him weak.

He would be using a cane to support himself as he leaves the infirmary, but instead Hilda is there to carry him out. He actually tries to walk anyways, but Hilda isn't having it. She scoops him right off his feet, ignoring all protests, and carries him to the dormitories, specifically her room.

Claude remembers her promise to yell at him. He figures smiling would be rude, so he tries to school his expression into something more serious.

Hilda deposits him on her bed and roughly pulls out the chair for her desk so she can sit on it. Her arms cross and her brow furrows, and Claude resists the urge to crack a joke.

"You, Claude Von Reigan, are terrible." Hilda says.

"I thought that was a well-established fact." Claude says. "Come on, I saved you didn't I? Are you calling that terrible?"

"Yes." Hilda says. "You should have just let me take the bite."

"Last I checked, you're strong, not tough." Claude counters. "You wouldn't take that bite any better than me."

"I _know_." She groans. "And that's what makes it worse! You weren't making a tactical decision at all!"

"Well…" He could probably find some way to justify his choice like saying that he needed to keep Hilda alive because she had the strength to kill the monster, but that would be a total lie. Nothing of the sort crossed his mind. "Yeah." He says lamely. "I wasn't."

She jabs him (lightly) in the shoulder. "You can't just throw away your life like that, you're going to lead the Alliance eventually!"

"And here I thought you didn't care about politics."

"I don't." She admits without hesitation. "I just don't want anyone sacrificing themselves for me. I haven't done anything to deserve it yet."

"Wow, where's your usual ego?" Claude says. He can't help but tease a bit. "Isn't your adorable face reason enough for people to throw themselves in front of you?"

"No!" She sounds genuinely offended. Maybe that joke fell flat.

"Come on Hilda, aren't I allowed to save a friend?" Claude asks.

"You're supposed to be selfish though!"

"Ouch." True, but ouch. "Maybe I'm repaying my favors then."

"Way overkill Claude!"

Okay, that didn't work either. Attempt number three. "Look, you've done something to be worth saving Hilda. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not the easiest person to get along with. Someone who will not only put up with me, but cover my ass when I'm out snooping or help me subdue someone without questioning it is not someone I value lightly."

"So you saved me because I'm useful?"

"I… no." He grimaces. He doesn't want to be honest. He hates being honest. Being honest is being weak, and weakness is exploitable. But he's going to do it anyways. Of course he's going to do it anyways, but what is it with Hilda and making him make really bad choices? "I wasn't thinking at all. It was more instinct than anything."

"That's four stories you've given me Claude, make up your mind!"

"The last one." Claude admitted hesitantly. "It was mostly impulse. I didn't want to see you die and acted."

"Fine then." Hilda huffs. She stands up and stalks over to him. "That settles it."

"Settles what?"

"How I'm going to respond."

"_Did she plan out different responses based on what I'd say?_" Claude doesn't have the chance to ask before she roughly grabs his collar and presses her mouth against his. Now, despite the many manipulations Claude has done over the years, believe it or not he's never actually had a kiss before. He wasn't expecting his first kiss to be a somewhat angry kiss, but apparently it is.

Hilda releases him only a few seconds later, though she doesn't pull her face away. They're still nose-to-nose with their foreheads pushed together. Well, held together. Hilda is still gripping him by the collar. Claude has never been this close to someone, especially when they're staring him in the eye. It's actually quite intimidating to see such an intense stare so close up. "You. Are. Stupid."

"Thanks?"

"I never want you to do that again." She growls. "But I know you might, so you better be damn ready when I do the same at some point in the future."

"If we're lucky that will never happen." Claude offers.

"Yes, but it will. So I better not hear any complaints when I save _you _next time!" She says.

"But your brother would never forgive me if something happened to you." Claude teases lightly.

"I said no complaints!"

"Alright, alright…" He might sound like he's not taking this seriously, but he is. He's mildly terrified at the implications of all this. He's now kinda responsible for Hilda promising to defend him at some point in the future, which means he may be responsible for her getting seriously injured at some point in the future. Also, she kissed him. What is he supposed to do about that? Is he supposed to do anything? He doesn't know. He's just going to act like normal until he can figure out what the heck to do. He's shown enough weakness for today, both emotionally and physically. Seriously, if Hilda wasn't holding him up he'd flop down in the bed like a ragdoll right now.

"Good." Hilda finally pulls her face away from Claude and he can breathe a sigh of relief. She also releases his collar, and he does indeed flop gracelessly onto the bed. "Have you eaten today? It's around lunch time."

"Lunch would be good." Claude says to the ceiling. "I'm super tired though."

"Eat, then sleep." Hilda orders. "Nothing hard on your stomach, right?"

"Right."

"Fine, then just stay awake for a few minutes while I get some food."

Hilda exits the room, leaving Claude alone with his thoughts. He debates leaving the room himself, he'd love to get his notebook right now, but when he pulls himself up he can already feel his legs wobbling underneath him and decides against it. He underestimated just how weak he is. It's going to be a huge pain to get back up to strength.

Also Hilda. What does he do about Hilda? How seriously is he supposed to take that kiss? Does he act like nothing changed? Maybe he should just wait and see how Hilda acts. That seems like a safe option.

In the meantime he's going to rest. Hilda said she'd be back in a few minutes. He'll just take a moment to close his eyes and relax before then…

He only realizes he fell asleep when Hilda pokes him awake a minute later. He slowly consumes the soup and bread, and carefully drinks the glass of water with surprisingly shaky hands. Only when his plate is clean and his glass empty does Hilda let him go back to sleep. She insists he sleep in her room, if only so she can keep an eye on him while still having access to everything in her room. It's not the first time Claude has slept here, and he's become (unfortunately) used to sleeping in the presence of other people after spending so much time in the infirmary.

Not to say he's _comfortable _with it, but he's used to it, and he doesn't think he's going to be left alone any time soon considering his heart and lungs weren't working just half a week ago. At least he can be reasonably sure Hilda won't stab him in his sleep.

_Of course she won't stab you in your sleep. She's your friend, you nearly died for her. Stop being paranoid._

He drifts off into a surprisingly comfortable sleep, and remains asleep all the way until dinner.

* * *

**If you thought Byleth was going to get the Sword of the Creator here, you clearly haven't seen how I handled the Rite of Rebirth in **_**Byleth: Peculiar Professor. **_**I've always felt like the Sword of the Creator was shoehorned into the story. Now granted, a lot of things about Byleth are fairly poorly handled in the game, like his appointment as a professor in the first place, but that's something mostly necessary to keep in the story. I can actually do something about the Sword of the Creator.**

**Claude goes through a lot of shit in this chapter. Keeping him moderately in character was surprisingly difficult. The big sticking point was Claude saving Hilda. How do I justify that? Claude is paranoid, he's smart, and he's very keen on **_**self-**_**defence. He's not a hero, and he wouldn't pretend to be. With that in mind, I made the choice that saving Hilda **_**wasn't**_ **a logical choice on his part, because I know there's almost no way Claude would be able to justify that choice to himself logically. And I think there's no way this would work if it wasn't Hilda. Claude doesn't get emotional with anyone else. Heck, even around Hilda he still makes a point to hide his emotions as much as possible, but she's still the only person I can justify him acting on emotion towards rather than logic.**


	17. A Deeper Look

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.**

**Here's an intermediary chapter that spiraled out of control.**

* * *

Depending on when you asked him, Ignatz would say it's his best piece ever, or a total disaster. Considering he started the painting while he was charmed up to his ears, that's not surprising.

The problem is that Ignatz has no idea where he's going with the painting. It's abstract, and that's the problem. He had an idea what the painting was supposed to be… about two weeks ago. Now? He can't remember for the life of him why he decided mashing light blue and pink together in a wavy, river-like line was a good idea. Why is there a distorted dark blue, prism-like shape on the right side of the painting? When and why did he choose _black_ as his background colour? What's with the white-yellow lines all over the place?

There's clearly a central idea he was following, but Ignatz has lost his lantern in the fog and can only fumble around, grabbing at the painting's themes like running his hands over a statue to figure out what it is because he can't see.

Even subsequent feedings didn't bring back his ideas of what the heck this painting is supposed to be or represent (when he was coherent enough to remember to look at the painting after the process was done). The charm rattling his brain didn't kick his artistic vision back to the forefront.

The only thing he knows with any degree of confidence is that the painting was about Marianne, but that's a bit of a given.

"You look like you're thinking really hard!" Raphael's voice interrupts Ignatz's thoughts, and the smaller boy looks up. "You haven't even touched your food!"

"Marianne and the colour pink, what's the connection?" Ignatz asks on impulse. Why he expects Raphael to know is beyond him, but maybe the larger boy will spark something in Ignatz's mind.

"Uh… blood stained cloth, because she's a healer? Or maybe strawberry ice cream?" Raphael suggests. "Why? Is this some sort of mystery?"

"In a sense." Ignatz mutters. He already thought about the blood-stained cloth idea, so Raphael didn't say anything new. The pink must represent something non-physical. What emotion might he associate with pink?

Raphael nudges Ignatz before he can retreat back into his thoughts. "Don't forget to eat."

"Right, right."

Raphael still finishes eating before Ignatz and moves onto the training ground, leaving Ignatz by himself to nibble on toast.

It seems that everyone wants to talk to Ignatz today though, because his musings are interrupted once again, though this time by someone Ignatz wasn't expecting.

"Iggy, buddy, pal!" Sylvain says with a wide smile on his face as he slides in next to him on the bench. "You lucky guy, how's the art going?"

Ignatz isn't exactly sure when his art skills became common knowledge, and he's not sure how comfortable he is with it. "At the moment, poorly."

"Ah, well that's a shame. Muse not inspiring you?"

"I don't mean to sound rude, but what do you want Sylvain?" They don't exactly know each other after all.

"I'm just curious about the newest member of the mark crew, that's all." Sylvain says with a wide grin. "Congratulations by the way."

"_What in the Goddess' name is he talking about?_" Ignatz thinks. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You don't have to hide it with me, I can see it you know." Sylvain says in a conspiratorial whisper.

"_Is there some joke I'm not in on?_" Ignatz questions silently. "I'm serious, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sylvain stares for a second, and then his grin comes back wider and more shit-eating than ever before. "Ooh, okay, right. I see how it is."

"What?"

"Nothing~!" Sylvain says, almost singing. He pats Ignatz on the shoulder and stands up. "You just enjoy your lunch and think about paint or something and be a good little artist."

"What's going on?"

"Bye!" Sylvain says, and leaves without answering the question.

Ignatz leaves the dining area with more questions than he entered with.

###

"Now now, stop squirming." Mercedes scolds as she places a hand on Claude's bare chest, and a white light encompasses her hand. "I'm just checking that your heart is working as expected. You haven't felt any skipped beats, or chest pain, or shortness of breath have you?"

"Nope, all good here!" Claude says. "I haven't done anything strenuous like Manuela said, so I'm recovering fine!"

"Not for lack of trying." Hilda huffs. "I had to drag him away from the training grounds multiple times."

"Claude…" Mercedes says, and gives him a pointed look.

"What? I had some new archery techniques I wanted to test out." He says. And by that, of course, he means he wanted to get back into fighting shape, but he can't very well let on that he's weak right now.

Even if this is Mercedes; the person who saw him carried out of the infirmary by Hilda and spent a week and a half acting as his life support. Maybe hiding his weakness is a bit unnecessary around her, but it feels unnatural _not_ to hide it.

"You were using a dagger Claude."

"_Hilda, not now!_" Claude thinks, putting on a painted smile. "Well-"

"I had to carry you back to your room again because you exhausted yourself."

Claude wouldn't call Mercedes' expression a _glare_ exactly; more a look of aggressive disappointment. "Claude, I _will_ get Manuela to confine you to the infirmary again."

"Okay, okay!" Claude holds his hands up in surrender. "I'll stay out of the training grounds!"

"You bet you will." Hilda grumbles. "Even I have to tie you to your bed to make it happen."

"Ooh~"

"Don't you start." Hilda grumbles towards Mercedes, who smiles in saintly fashion.

"But you make it so easy Hilda." Mercedes says.

"I'm not easy!"

"Mmm-hmm." Mercedes hums. "You hear yourself, right?"

"What do you-? Not _that_ kind of easy!" Hilda shouts. "Mercedes!"

"I'm not doing anything~!" The ooze sings.

"It really is just you Hilda." Claude agrees. "Maybe watch your phrasing?"

"I wouldn't have to if Mercedes didn't have a dirty mind." Hilda complains. "Honestly, I'm here busting my ass on Claude and his safety, and all I get is mockery."

Claude turns his head, his lips fighting and failing to contain the grin that crosses them. Mercedes plants her elbows on the table and props up her face with her hands, still with that infuriatingly serene smile. "Hilda, really, are you even trying?"

Hilda takes a moment to go over what she just said, and then she throws her hands into the air and slumps back in her seat. "I hate both of you."

###

Marianne doesn't consider herself very observant. In fact, most of the time she'd say she's exactly the opposite. Even so, it's hard not to notice the surge of magic that washes over the monastery.

There aren't many people Marianne knows with enough magical power to make such a notable mana surge, and that's only if they're using a _lot_ of power. That's why she rushes around the monastery, trying to find the source of the surge. Why would someone be using so much power? Is the monastery under attack?

Oddly enough, no one else seems to notice. Marianne moves past Annette, Lorenz, and Linhardt, and none of them seem even mildly disturbed. A quick question to Annette confirms that the little girl didn't sense anything at all.

The only other people that seem to notice are Dorothea, who is also scurrying around the monastery, Acrim, who quickly checks in with Marianne before continuing her own investigation, and Hanneman, who is attuned to all things magic (even, apparently, things that other people mostly can't sense).

"It's charm magic my dear." Hanneman explains. "That's why you can feel it and others can't. It's not something you need to worry about either; I'm quite sure I know the cause. Don't let it concern you."

Even if Marianne wanted to protest she couldn't, because Hanneman phases through the floor before she can respond.

About five minutes later the wave of magic stops, and Marianne is left confused about what exactly just happened.

###

Claude understands. He really does. That doesn't mean he's happy about it though. "Come on Teach, I can't be the only one left behind! I'm supposed to be the head of the house! Just think of the damage to my reputation!"

"Better than being dead." The Demon responds tactlessly. "You're staying here."

"It's only a small mission Claude." Hilda says. "Clearing a merchant route or two. It's basically nothing."

Ignatz looks slightly uncomfortable at those words, and Raphael frowns. Their families are both merchants, they probably know exactly what it's like to have a dangerous route. It's not nothing to them at all.

"I've made sure Mercedes is going to check on you more frequently." Hilda warns. "So I better not hear about you trying to climb the cathedral or something when I get back!"

"No promises." Claude says, because he's planning on doing exactly that among other things that Hilda probably wouldn't approve of. There's a certain blocked-up tunnel he wants to investigate.

Hilda sighs. "Just… don't get yourself killed."

"Hilda, that's my specialty."

"Says the guy who jumped in front of a demonic beast." Leonie quips.

"Here here." Lorenz agrees. "Do try and act according to your station Claude. Noble character is most evident when one is at their weakest! You did well in saving Hilda, you'd do well follow up on that."

Yeah, that's not happening.

When the rest of his class leaves for their mission (not the main mission for the month, simply an extra one that the Demon thought could be valuable experience) Claude is left to his own devices for the first time in a long time, and it's just when he's not really in the condition to take most advantage of it. He's still weak, he probably couldn't climb the cathedral even if he wanted to, but that doesn't mean he can't sneak around.

The first thing on the list is to get into Rhea's room, or at least find a future path that will let him do that. That involves, of course, getting around the cathedral without being noticed. Rhea lives in the upper levels of the cathedral, which aren't exactly off-limits to students, but if Claude goes anywhere except the Library or a teacher's room people are going to raise their eyebrows, and while Rhea does have her office and audience chamber on the second floor, her actual room is on the third (along with Seteth's and Flayn's) and very few people are allowed up there unless it's just to knock on a door and deliver a message.

Actually, Claude isn't sure who _is_ allowed up there otherwise. Even the cleaning staff don't go into Rhea's room from his knowledge. Claude thinks he's seen Catherine come down from there, but that's about it.

That's why Claude finds himself in the meeting room on the east side of the second floor. A bit of poking around reveals that yes, the windows _can_ be opened, and Claude is very happy to discover this. That's definitely something he can use. When he's in better shape, he can climb out of the windows here and have a shorter climb up to the third floor windows.

"What are you doing?"

Claude doesn't startle. Instead he puts on a winning, casual grin as he turns around, as if it's perfectly normal to be staring down at the opening of an open window. "Cyril! Have some cleaning to do in here? I can get out of your way."

"Why were you staring out the window?" The boy asks, ignoring Claude's admittedly obvious attempt at redirection. "You better not be planning to climb out. That's against the rules."

Claude blinks. "_Is this kid psychic, or have I become just that predictable?_" He clears his throat. "I was admitting the view from a new place is all! I have no idea what gave you that impression, Cyril."

"Don't play dumb." Cyril says accusingly. "I've seen you sneaking around before! I know about you breaking into Seteth's office!"

For a moment, Claude genuinely doesn't know what Cyril is talking about, and then he remembers his excursion way back near the start of the year, multiple months ago. "Huh, you're more sneaky than I give you credit for then. I didn't see you at all."

"That's not the point! You shouldn't be sneaking around!" Cyril says, pointing a feather duster at him. "I know what you're doing! Rhea knows too! I don't know why she hasn't made you stop sneaking around yet, but don't think that means you can get away with going too far!"

What an interesting tidbit of information. Lady Rhea knows about his sneaking around, but is _allowing_ it or turning a blind eye? Curious indeed.

"So you better stop sneaking around, or I'll tell Rhea!"

"You've been doing that already." Claude points out, "and it hasn't done anything."

"Then… I'll tell Mercedes and Mauela and have you confined to the infirmary!"

Claude sighs deeply. He hates how easy he is to threaten with his condition. This is also part of why he hates being sick. Anyone and everyone can use it as leverage against him. "That's a low blow Cyril! You wound my half-human heart! Have you no sympathy for your fellows?"

Cyril scowls. "What makes you think we're fellows?"

Maybe Cyril isn't as Almyran as Claude assumed. Not that he isn't from Almyra, but he clearly doesn't care for it… or doesn't know that Claude is Almyran. Either way, now Claude knows not to try and appeal to their shared heritage. It was worth a try. ""We're both students, aren't we?"

"I'm not."

Right. Oops. "Oh. Guess you wouldn't be able to afford the fee."

Cyril's eyes narrow a bit, and it occurs to Claude that what he just said was really rude. He swears he used to be more _suave_ than this. "Don't try to distract me. I've delivered my warning. Now stop snooping and get out, I have to clean this place. There's a meeting happening later."

After unceremoniously being threatened and thrown out of a room by a fourteen year old, Claude has to find something else to do. He also has to smile and not jump at nearly smacking into Rhea as he walks out of the meeting room. Was she listening? She doesn't say anything, smiles at him, and walks into the room, so Claude _assumes_ she didn't hear anything, but by the gods he doesn't need another scare like that.

With that option gone Claude moves on to the second item on his list. He makes his way over to the blocked tunnel next to the Demon's room… and immediately realizes he has no way of getting through it without Hilda.

He's overcome bigger problems than this before, but he doesn't think a controlled explosion is something he can get away with on monastery grounds.

It probably says something about him that a controlled explosion is his first thought for dealing with a blocked path. But really, what else could he do? It's not like he's going to move the rocks himself. He's used controlled explosions before anyways. Get a few tomes and a mana igniter off the black market, toss them in a pile, and boom, literally. Instant explosion.

Wait, tomes aren't used here in Fodlan. Ahh, what to use then…?

"You've seen it too, haven't you?"

What is it with people sneaking up on him today? And It's Mercedes this time, fantastic. Just the person he _didn't_ want to run into. "Seen what, exactly? It's a wall Mercedes."

"Oh don't be like that." Mercedes smiles. "I'm not quite as ditzy as I might appear. I'm well aware that there's a tunnel behind the wall. I have been awake every night for multiple months after all. It's hard not to notice the glowing lights at some point."

Well, that's something. In retrospect, maybe he should have anticipated Mercedes was a _bit_ more aware than she looks after he realized she was an ooze, considering her looks are constructed to begin with. Also, he's run into her at night before, so she totally knows about his night time excursions. "Maybe I just like taking walks!"

"Hmm, I'm sure." Mercedes hums. "So, are we investigating what's past the wall, or are you going to continue to pretend that I don't know what you get up to at night?"

Claude never thought the day would come when Mercedes was at all intimidating, but lo and behold, such a thing has happened. All it took was for her to be revealed as one of the most difficult to destroy species on the planet and for her to know about the things that could get him kicked out of the officer's academy. No big deal really. "No need to use threats Mercedes! Can't be revealing my secrets to just anyone you know. Have to play it cautiously."

"Threats?" Mercedes giggles. "Oh my, do I come off as that scary? I shaped this form to be exactly the opposite. Perhaps it's not doing its job, hmm?"

Somehow, that's the scariest thing Claude has heard in a long time.

"But I'm not threatening you Claude." Mercedes reassures. "I'm not in the business of causing trouble. I'm simply curious about the tunnel, but I didn't want to go looking by myself before. I'm not the adventurous type usually. It's more scary than fun when you go alone, and I couldn't exactly ask Bernadetta, and I didn't want to potentially get Annette in trouble."

Okay, maybe she's a bit less intimidating than Claude thought. "Well, as long as you don't mind doing the heavy lifting, literally, I wouldn't mind taking you along."

"Oh good." She says. "Well then, just give me a second, would you? Last time I investigated the tunnel I went through the cracks in the stone, I didn't actually remove any."

Mercedes deftly removes the stones, holding them aloft with her "hair".

"Here we go! Right on through!" Mercedes says. Claude ducks into the tunnel and Mercedes slides in next, pulling the stones back into place as she does so. "My, this is exciting, isn't it?"

"You don't snoop a lot, do you?"

"Well not in this fashion. I keep an ear to gossip instead. Much less illegal." Mercedes says cheerfully. "And you can still learn so much if you just dig a little bit below the surface."

"Wow, team mom Mercedes is a gossip hound?" Claude teases. "What a dark secret."

"Oh hush, not all of us are breaking into people's offices and climbing onto rooftops in our spare time."

They progress down the tunnel much quicker than Claude did last time, now that he doesn't have to drag someone who can't see in the dark by hand. Actually, he's pretty sure Mercedes can't see in the dark either, but seeing as she is literally a sentient pile of goo she doesn't exactly have to worry about tripping or bumping into things. It still takes a few minutes though.

"So…" Claude says, when he figures they're far enough away from the entrance to not have to worry about people hearing them. "You said you constructed your form, right?"

"Oh yes! It took quite a while for it to become… I suppose the human equivalent would be "muscle memory". I used to slide back into the more child-like body I designed all the time." Mercedes says. "The only reason it's so easy to keep up this form is because it's subconscious. It's my default, you might say. If I didn't have a default, I'd just be a blob on the floor, and people tend to get scared of sentient, sometimes-acidic, blobs."

"I can imagine."

"I don't. That used to be a reality for me." Mercedes says much more cheerfully than the tone those words deserve. "It took two years for me to be able to maintain the simplest body for more than a few minutes, and it took almost six for me to learn to make vocal chords. It was quite difficult to communicate with my mother before then."

Claude had never considered what the implications of a constructed body were, but now that he is thinking about it, he realizes just how many things Mercedes actually has to juggle at once. She has to maintain her physical appearance, she has to make her movements seem natural which takes a good understanding of anatomy (not to mention the precision involved in such things as eye movements), and she has to simulate the incredible complexity of vocal chords, including complex tone shifts, and she has to do this all at the same time.

And supposedly this is _subconscious._ Mercedes is truly a master of multitasking.

"My child form was a copy of a servant girl." Mercedes hums, apparently enjoying being able to tell her story. "It was too difficult to come up with something all my own. Poor girl was horribly confused and scared to see a peach-coloured copy of her walking around. I copied her voice at the time as well. Everything about me now is custom, but it took quite a bit of time to design and perfect."

"I'd imagine."

"The voice was hard to get down. I was used to making myself sound high-pitch and shrill as a child, so going for soft and quiet was a challenge." Mercedes continues. "And the body… I spent months ironing out the details. Did I want to be tall, short, medium height? Thin, chubby, muscular? Long hair? Short? How did I want to structure the face? How appealing did I want to be? I couldn't exactly change these things after I went ahead with them. Well, I could, but this is _my_ appearance now. People associate me with this look. If I change too much, will people still think of me as the same person? Will I still be Mercedes in their mind?"

That's quite the thought to chew on, and it's not one Claude is at all prepared to think about. "If it's any reassurance, you've done quite a good job with your current body."

"Oh I'd hope so. I've spent years fine-tuning it. I'm quite happy with the "motherly" look, as Annette calls it." Mercedes says. "Annette could probably tell you better than I could about the changes. I've forgotten most of the changes over time, but they were quite obvious for Annette. After all, she's the one who saw me and listened to me constantly for years on end. I remember I used to have darker hair though, and I've gradually added a bit more mass to myself over the years. You'd be surprised at how much a little more shape to my body changed how people would act when meeting me."

Claude is the opposite of surprised. He's seen the difference in people meeting Dorothea versus, say, Ingrid. "I think you underestimate just how much I watch people."

"I suppose that's true." Mercedes agrees after a moment of thought. "You would know that too, wouldn't you? Is it because you watch Hilda so much?"

"No." Yes. "What makes you think that?"

"You're not as subtle as you like to think you are Claude~" Mercedes says in a sing-song voice.

When did Mercedes become so observant? Thankfully, they reach the end of the tunnel before Mercedes can tease him anymore. The pile of debris is exactly as Claude remembers it… probably, because it's not like he memorized where every stone and plank of wood was.

"Me and Hilda figured there had to be something past this debris." Claude says. "It looks like a collapsed building, not a normal cave-in."

"I'll take your word for it, because I can't see it." Mercedes says. "Give me a minute to do my work then."

Claude is about to shimmy out of the way, but it proves unnecessary as Mercedes simply moves through him. Her (surprisingly warm) body runs over his for a few seconds until she's reformed in front of him, and then she steps forward and steps into the debris.

The smell of acid immediately clues Claude in on what's happening. She can't safely move things out of the way, so she's just going to dissolve it outright, and that works great until it doesn't.

By that Claude means the roof collapses. One second everything is fine, then there's a small shift in the dirt around them, and suddenly stone and planks are coming in through the ceiling.

Apparently that building wasn't just in front of the tunnel, it was _above_ it too, and Mercedes removing some of the debris took away support for the rest of the building, causing it to collapse part of the tunnel.

Thankfully Mercedes doesn't see with her fake eyes, she sees from every part of her body she cares to see from, and that's everywhere, so when the ceiling collapses she has quick enough reactions to pull Claude into herself to protect him.

Claude is not panicking. Knowing that the only thing that is stopping him from being crushed and impaled is Mercedes is not worrying at all. He's just lying on his back, staring through Mercedes' semi-transparent body at a particularly sharp piece of wood in just the right position to spike his head.

Not worrying at all.

"Oh dear." Mercedes says. She's not even in human form at the moment, she's a blob covering him and protecting him from the debris, but he can still hear her voice as if she's speaking directly into his ear. "You'll be fine, just give me a minute."

"I'm never investigating random abandoned tunnels again." Claude wheezes.

"I think we both know that's not true." Mercedes hums as she dissolves them a path through the debris. "Now just hold on. No need to panic."

"I'm not panicking."

"I can see you hyperventilating right now. Deep breaths Claude. I've got you." Mercedes murmurs.

Why is it that Mercedes is apparently the one chosen to see him at his worst? She was the one to see him nearly dead after the demonic beast bit him, and now she gets to see him freaking out in a collapsed tunnel.

Also, Mercedes is apparently his guardian angel because this is the second time she's saved his life. As if he didn't already owe her a debt.

"Here we go!" Mercedes says after a few minutes of digging. She hauls him out of their collapsed tunnel and sets him on the ground of what looks like an abandoned street.

It looks like the tunnel used to lead directly to the basement of whatever the collapsed building used to be, just based on the placement of the tunnel compared to the main road.

"So this is Abyss, huh?" Claude mutters. He dusts off his shirt, trying to retain some semblance of dignity. "I'm not sure what I was expecting."

"Abyss?" Mercedes asks. "I assumed that was only a rumor."

"So you heard of it too."

"It's a popular myth to share among the new students." Mercedes says. To think I was real all along…"

"_Hilda is going to be so mad I went and investigated this without her._" Claude realizes belatedly. He didn't expect to find Abyss behind the tunnel. He was expecting an old secret passage out of the monastery, or maybe the remains of some old buildings from a past era, not _this_.

There doesn't seem to be anyone in their immediate area, which gives Claude a few minutes to investigate. The architectural style doesn't suggest that the surrounding buildings are actually from an older era, they're just poorly constructed and rotted. The air around them is damp, which probably explains that latter part.

Inside the other buildings, Claude doesn't find anything. No pots, no cloth, no money, nothing. It's been picked clean. There are dents and divots in the ground where furniture of some sort used to rest, but they're not there anymore.

"I believe I found a way lower." Mercedes calls softly. She waves him over to a hole in the floor of another building with a rotting wooden ladder leading down to another level.

"You first." Claude says. "You're the indestructible one."

The ladder doesn't look quite as old as the buildings. Claude would bet money scavengers used the ladder to get up here and left the ladder behind afterwards.

Mercedes drops down to the lower level, and then holds out her hands as if encouraging Claude to jump and she'll catch him.

Claude takes the ladder. His dignity is already in tatters, he's not going to jump into Mercedes' arms like a literal child. She's babied him enough already.

(He regrets it a minute later when he gets a splinter on the rotted wood and Mercedes heals him up.)

They seem to have dropped down into a back alley of some sort, or maybe it's just a normal alley down here in Abyss. There's still no people around, so the two of them can get their bearings without interruption.

"I can hear voices." Claude says. "A lot of them."

"Well then, we should go say hello." Mercedes suggests.

"Or we could stay out of sight and watch from a distance first so we know what we're getting into." Claude counters.

"Oh my, how distrusting."

"Mercedes, you don't succeed in sneaking around by being _trusting_." Claude snorts.

"I suppose I'm quite a poor fit for this then." The older girl hums. "Lead on, Lord Riegan. Instruct me."

Somehow those words feel like a tease even though Mercedes says them with seeming sincerity.

Claude creeps along towards the voices, keeping low to the ground and close to one wall. There's dim light coming from all around, provided by oil lanterns, candles, and the occasional magic light source.

A bend in the alley reveals an exit onto what looks like a main street. Two large buildings mostly obscure Claude's vision, and show exactly why no one comes down here; you probably wouldn't even know there's an alley here from how close together the buildings are.

There are two back entrances leading into the alley from the buildings though. Claude debates breaking in for a second, then dismisses the thought. It's an unnecessary risk.

"There's nowhere else to go. I guess we might have to say hello." Claude warns Mercedes. "Find somewhere else we can hide as quickly as possible. We also need to find a way out in case we need to retreat, seeing as the tunnel collapsed."

"I'll keep my eyes peeled." Mercedes says, though they both know it won't be her noticing anything.

Claude squeezes out onto the main street, and he's immediately aware of how much he stands out. While the dress around him is varied, very little of it is in the monastery's distinct style. His officer's academy uniform marks him as an outsider here more effectively than shouting to the world that he's Almyran.

"My, how colourful!" Mercedes notes cheerfully with a clap of her hands. "Look at all the different styles! Oh, Petra would love this place! I think I see some Bridigine clothes! The beaded necklace on that man over there!"

That's Srengian attire actually. Those "beads" are various dried and preserved nuts and berries, and the necklace would be quite the vanity item seeing as Sreng is mostly a wasteland and food is more valuable there. Still, Mercedes has just shown more attention to other cultures than Claude has seen in most nobles (which is rather disappointing now that he thinks of it. It's such a low bar that someone who just made an obvious mistake is better than most nobles simply by virtue of showing the most basic awareness that the Brigidine sometimes wear beads).

"That's Srengian actually." Claude says. "But yeah, Petra would like it here, if just for the diversity."

As Mercedes marvels at their grimy but colourful surroundings, Claude is looking for an exit, or at least a place to hide. He doesn't want to be out in the open like this. However, all the other alleys are either occupied or easily visible, so he keeps dragging Mercedes down the main road (attracting way too much attention for his liking) looking for another spot to hide.

He's also seeing a surprising number of non-humans down here. The officer's academy is already a hotbed for non-humans as they are what comprise the upper crest of Fodlanese society, but something tells Claude that most of the people down here aren't from the church or the officer's academy, and only a fraction of them are likely to be nobles.

Claude sees a large number of tunnels and stairways as he moves around. This place is more sprawling than the main street suggests. He wouldn't doubt there are layers upon layers of this hidden town, and honestly he can't wait to explore it _at another time_ when he isn't dragging Mercedes along behind him. She's not cut out for this.

Point in case, she doesn't notice the four people that fall into step behind them. Claude does. He hears them no problem. Even without looking back he knows they're there. It's highly unlikely they can hurt Mercedes, but Claude isn't nigh indestructible.

He needs to get out of this crowded street. He takes a turn into the first tunnel he sees, and Mercedes (thankfully) isn't so distracted that she doesn't follow.

As soon as Claude has determined that there isn't anyone immediately in the tunnel, he draws a pair of daggers and turns around. "Hey there friends, what's with the full cloaks? You look like people with something to hide! It's not an effective look, I can vouch. If you want to be subtle, consider just a hood and some non-descript clothes. Much more effective for stealth."

"You'd be right on the surface." One of the four cloaked figures replies. "But down here, this is plenty normal."

"Oh hello!" Mercedes says, ignoring the vaguely antagonistic feeling in the air. She extends a hand. "My name is Mercedes Von Matritz, it's a pleasure to meet you!"

"Girl." One of the other figures says in a low rumble. They're taller than the others. "What sort of place do you think-"

"Hi." One of the other figures answers in a whisper They're clearly female, and speak in a low tone. Their voice tickles Claude's ears, demands his attention, and sends a shiver down his spine all at once. The hand that emerges from the full cloak is gloved with dark green gloves. "Hapi."

"Hapi! Please! We've spoken about this! You cannot go around introducing yourself to whoever wanders down here! There is a procedure to follow!" The last figure groans. They're also female by the way, and speak in a much more high-pitch voice than Hapi. "And you know you should not be _speaking_! It's dangerous."

Claude can practically _feel_ Hapi rolling her eyes inside the cloak, but she doesn't say anything else.

"What are a pair of school brats doing down here?" The first figure asks. "And for someone who claims to know about stealth, you're both rather colourful yourself."

"We weren't exactly expecting to find Abyss through a collapsed tunnel." Claude says as calmly as he can. "Trust me, I would have chosen something _much_ more subtle if I knew this is where we were going to end up."

"I'll take your word for it." The first figure says, then sighs and flicks off his hood. "Constance, there's no need for this farce. They would have figured out who we are anyways."

"Yuri! It is a matter of _safety_ to hide our identities!"

"Hapi blew that already." The first figure says. He's interesting to look at. It's not the light purple hair that makes him unusual. It's his… well, everything else. His skin is shiny grey, not quite matching anything Claude has seen before. It's not quite Lorenz's platinum, nor is it the straight grey of some undead, nor is it pale like Byelth. It's something all his own. His eyes are a flat orange colour, and Claude thinks he can see horns hidden under the boy's hair. "I'm Yuri, and you two have come somewhere you don't belong."

"Hey now, those are strong words. How do either of us know me and Mercedes don't belong if we haven't even been given a chance?" Claude asks.

"Because you're part of the officer's academy, your outfits give it away." Yuri replies. "And I'd know your name, _friend_."

"Claude." Claude says. Adding his last name might be more trouble than it's worth if these people think he's important. "And what was this about calling us kids, earlier, hmm? You don't look very old yourself, and I'll have you know I'm eighteen, and Mercedes here is twenty-three."

"Twenty-three?" The high pitched girl hastily removes her own cloak. She looks rather normal all things considered. Slightly pale skin and blonde hair, and a distinct noble styling. Lorenz would like her. "Mercedes, was it!? Pray tell, were you once a Bartelz?"

"Indeed I was, once upon a time."

"It is I! Constance Von Nuvelle!" The girl cries. "You do remember my most distinguished self, yes?"

"Constance?" Mercedes says. She steps forward and grabs the girl's face between her hands. "Oh my! You look so very different! You were so small before!"

"I could say the same to you! I distinctly recall much shorter hair, and your voice has changed tremendously!"

"So, I guess we're not punching them?" The gruff male figure asks. He rips off his own cloak as if it was strangling him… and judging by his unbuttoned shirt, maybe he actually believes it was. He has deep grey skin, but is otherwise normal from what Claude can tell. He can't place the man's species immediately. A variant of tiefling perhaps? He can sweat, Claude can see that, so he isn't undead. "Well I'm Balthus! The undisputed, undefeated King of Grappling!"

Claude would love to see him try and wrestle Hilda, or even Mercedes. How quickly would his confidence evaporate?

"And this is Hapi, as you already know." Yuri says, gesturing to Hapi. "She can't speak- or she can, but shouldn't- and the cloak also needs to stay on for her."

Hmm… what sort of powers would require hiding your face and voice? Sounds like charm magic to Claude. Apparently the mountain of Garreg Mach is teeming with rare natural charm magic users. Is Hapi a succubus too?

Mercedes is completely ignoring this, engrossed with talking to Constance. "You _have_ to meet Annette! We've become close friends over the years. She's quite similar to yourself! A witch as well, in fact!"

"Mercedes, I'm not a _witch_."

"Yes, yes, a hag, but that's very similar!"

"Don't say that out loud!"

"Everyone knows Constance!" Balthus says.

"_He_ did not!" Constance protests, gesturing towards Claude.

"He would have figured it out. He's too curious for his own good." Mercedes giggles. Claude can only shrug in response. It's true. "What brought you to Abyss though Constance? If anything, I would have expected you to come to the officer's academy."

"That was the plan, once upon a time." Constance sighs. "Alas, the fall of my house was the fall of my dreams… for the moment at least. In time house Nuvelle will return by my hands, but it won't be today or tomorrow. Without a house and without funds, I had no place to go and ended up here."

"How awful."

"It is nothing that cannot be reversed! I shall see my house returned to its former glory! Built up from scratch once more!"

"And what about the rest of you?" Claude asks, seeing a chance for information. "A motley crew like yours surely has some more stories to tell."

"Now now, we're not that easy to pick apart, friend." Yuri says. He wears a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I think your little visit needs to come to an end. We're busy people after all."

"But I've seen so few sights! Could a tour not be in order?" Claude asks cheekily.

"Perhaps another time, and only if you're willing to provide more than a generic first name." Yuri says. "Trust is not one way after all. Balthus."

"Yeah?"

"Show them out. Main entrance. That way we know how they'll get back in."

"I could just-"

"No Balthus. Knocking people out isn't an acceptable solution to every problem."

"Oh, or-!"

"We're not using an experimental spell either Constance."

Both of them deflate like dogs denied a treat. Hapi shakes her head at them.

"They'd find another way in anyhow." Yuri sighs. "So just show them out the normal way."

Balthus reluctantly escorts them out, with Constance tagging along to talk to Mercedes at a rapid pace. Claude and Balthus have to wait a solid five minutes for Constance to stop saying everything she needs to say to Mercedes before Claude can finally drag Mercedes out of Abyss.

The entrance, apparently, is in a back-alley of the town surrounding the monastery behind a bar. The entrance is camouflage by looking like a normal, solid wooden fence, except the fence is actually a gate that can be opened and closed, but that's only apparent from the inside.

"Well that was quite the adventure!" Mercedes says cheerfully. "I would happily do that again, wouldn't you?"

Claude wants to go lie down and sleep for five years. He almost died through a cave-in, might have gotten stabbed if Mercedes didn't know Constance, and today has had way more movement than his currently weakened form can handle. "Yeah, but let's not do that for a while. I'm exhausted."

"That's right, you're not well." Mercedes says, instantly worried. "Do you need me to carry you?"

Right, he forgot to add "made a fool of himself in front of Mercedes" to the list of things that went wrong today. "I'm fine Mercedes, but let's get back to the monastery. I need to lie down for a bit."

To his credit, he doesn't collapse until he gets back to his room. He's also eternally grateful that the gatekeeper didn't comment on not seeing them leave but somehow they're returning now.

* * *

**So this chapter ended up being far more than I expected. This was supposed to be a transition chapter where there were a few fun character moments, not an introduction to the Abyss.**

**Also, apparently I can't resist putting Mercedes into everything, because Mercedes is great. She also bounces off Claude surprisingly well… though that might just be because her general status of being team mom allows her to interact with **_**any **_**student by virtue of being motherly. Heck, that's basically the premise of **_**Succubus Mercedes**_ **as a story. She's a deceptively flexible character due to having a widely-applicable role that no one else in the cast can really fill.**


End file.
